come a little closer .

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:         malfoy   manor,   wiltshire. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂:         open.         (      @startertms​      )

musicality   in   his   tone   is   a   stark   revelation      of   the   joy   with   which   he   regards   the   evening,   evident   even   when   he   drops   his   tone   to   a   𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎   𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛,   calling   the   attention   of   a   distracted   guest.         “         ursa   major      &      ursa   minor.   mother      &      baby   bear,   𝖺𝗌   𝗂𝗍   𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾.      my   favourites.      funny,   i   never   had   a   penchant   for   stargazing,   really,   until      …         ”         it’s   the   kind   of   natural   trail   that   warrants   a   delicate   misting   of   champagne   -   stung   baby   blues,   but   lucius   isn’t   prone   to   that   kind   of   outburst      ;      instead,   there’s   a   touch   of   the   𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓      &      wistful   to   the   smile   he   offers.         “         of   all   of   the   enchantments,   i   took   the   most   care   with   those   ones.         ”

             ❝   𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐢𝐭   𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬   𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞   𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥   learn   even   more   ,   ❞   a   gentle   smile   graces   eulalia’s   features   ,   a   sort   of   temperance   that   she   is   unpracticed   at   .   it   doesn’t   come   to   her   naturally   but   she   tries   her   best   in   this   moment   ,   even   if   the   feeling   is   less   than   genuine   .   a   natural   mother   ,   she   is   NOT   .   even   further   away   from   her   capabilities   is   how   to   empathize   with   someone   about   to   be   a   grandmother   .   ❝   i   hear   you   have   some   exciting   developments   happening   in   your   life   ,   ❞   she   says   ,   a   single   eyebrow   lifting   as   she   takes   a   sip   of   the   coffee   in   front   of   her   .   she   allows   the   smile   to   turn   teasing   ,   something   more   tangible   ,   more   within   her   wheelhouse   .   ❝   i’m   sure   there   will   be   a   whole   host   lessons   there   .   ❞

it   does   shave   off   a   point   or   two   .   god   ,   that   just   makes   her   like   .   .   .   a   nine   maybe   .   devastating   lost   .   truly   her   worst   quality   ,   if   i’m   honest   ,   but   the   hot   evil   mommy   makes   up   for   it   for   the   most   part   .

              ❝   𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧ʻ𝐭   𝐢𝐭   𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭   ,   𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡   ?   ❞   𝐬𝐡𝐞   asks   ,   tilting   the   rim   of   her   glass   in   the   direction   of   their   conversing   husbands   .   the   two   of   them   were   birds   of   a   feather   in   that   sense   .   husbands   that   styled   themselves   into   men   of   importance   .   husbands   that   liked   to   play   with   fire   .   husbands   who   were   always   bound   to   pay   the   price   for   it   eventually   .   it   was   the   thing   she   LIKED   so   much   about   narcissa   .   they   were   married   to   men   who   were   cut   from   the   same   cloth   and   the   two   of   them   were   just   the   right   side   of   steel   enough   to   love   them   for   it   .   ❝   they   wouldnʻt   necessarily   be   wrong   ,   i   think   .   ❞   she   says   ,   lips   curling   around   the   rim   of   her   glass   as   she   took   a   sip   ,   eyes   on   the   other   women   the   entire   time   .   the   smile   that   she   allows   to   spread   over   her   cheeks   holds   the   slight   sharpness   of   flirtation   .   ❝   you   know   what   they   say   though   ,   right   ?   that   bit   about   behind   every   great   man   . . .  ❞   dark   eyes   track   a   slow   rove   up   and   down   the   blonde   beside   her   .   ❝   . . .  great   women   .   ❞

PROMPT : “ how are you doing ? still having fun ? ” FEATURING : @hvllcwedground.

“ as much fun as one possibly can during halloween night. ” fleur smiled, lifting her head away from where her chin sat in the palm of her hands most of the night. a valiant effort for a greeting, one made especially for her. she gestured her hand towards the across from her, offering it towards her new found company. “ i’m on call tonight. consider this my halloween costume. ” she added, chuckling lightly. the sight in front of madame karkaroff almost looked pitiful. sat in the three broomsticks was fleur fashioning the same scrubs she had been wearing for the last twelve hours, and a cup of now luke warm jasmine tea in front of her — all while waiting for her husband to arrive so they could celebrate halloween night properly. which didn’t seem like any time soon, but fleur was glad that she got to see another familiar face. “ what about you, are you having fun ? can i get you something to drink ? ”

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  the  ministry  of  magic  (  atrium  level  ),  london  ! 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶  :  @hvllcwedground​​  !

“  mrs  karkaroff.  ”  she  hasn’t  had  to  work  herself  up  for  this  moment.  that’s  one  of  the  few  perks  of  youthful  disownment,  she’d  wager  ;  by  being  gone  for  so  long,  eliza  hasn’t  been  updated  on  who’s  who  of  the  wix  community  this  side  of  the  atlantic  in  a  long,  long  time.  she  had  heard  of  antonin  karkaroff’s  ascension  to  minister  of  magic  two  weeks  after  it  had  happened,  and  she  hadn’t  known  his  wife’s  name  until  she  had  already  settled  into  her  new  home  -  but  eulalia  was  the  one  of  interest,  possibly  of  use,  to  her,  not  her  husband.  she  could  get  a  ministry  job  tomorrow  if  she  so  chose,  just  by  virtue  of  knowing  people  &  pulling  strings,  but  other  things,  like  dinner  parties  and  certain  brands  of  book  club…  those  would  remain  entirely  cut  off  from  her,  unles  she  made  a  good  impression  with  the  people  who  really  mattered.  no  doubt  eulalia  would  see  right  through  her  a  mile  away,  but  when  eliza  flashes  a  friendly  smile  and  holds  out  her  hand  to  the  other,  she  does  it  with  the  knowledge  that  even  if  she  DOES,  she  only  has  to  be  confident  enough  for  it  to  be  charming.  “  we  haven’t  had  the  honor,  yet.  my  name  is  eliza  fawley  ;  my  husband  and  i  have  only  recently  moved  back  to  london.  ”

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽          :          ministry     of     magic,     atrium     level. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂     :          open.          (          @startertms​          )

❛          salazar     have     mercy.          ❜          on     anyone     else,     outward          (          if     muffled          )     display     of     exasperation     might     not     pass     but     there’s     a     retained,     practised     arrogance     to     lucius’     behaviour     that     makes     it     seem     perfectly     natural.     if     the     offending     department     head     has     overheard     him,     they’ve     got     the     GOOD     GRACE     not     to     notice          &          instead     press     𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑     with     their     presentation          ;          it     doesn’t     stop     him     from     snagging     another     glass     of     red          &          muttering     under     merlot     -     sweet     breath     to     the     𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐑     soul     that     lingers     near     his     elbow.          ❛          were     you     aware     that     they’d     made     such          .     .     .          awe     -     inspiring     advances     in     ergonomic     cauldrons          ?          ❜          there’s     mirth     somewhere     in     that     frigid     glance,     but     it’s     not     aimed     at     the     weary     speaker          !          ❛          just          ──          riveting     material          .     .     .          ❜

         ❝   𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝   𝐨𝐟   𝐮𝐬   ,   𝐦𝐲   𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫   ?   ❞   she   says   ,   head   tilting   in   curiosity   .   as   if   she   wasnʻt   fully   aware   of   the   dark   stain   they   all   were   on   the   unblemished   veneer   of   one   ‘   kaz   ’   karkaroff   .   as   if   she   didn’t   know   all   the   ways   in   which   he   STRAINED   against   the   ties   that   bound   them   to   one   another   .   ❝   i   imagine   it   must   be   hard   for   you   ,   ❞   she   says   .   hollow   words   from   the   woman   who   chose   this   life   ,   from   a   woman   who   would   continue   to   chose   this   life   even   if   given   the   opportunity   to   leave   .   he   did   not   choose   this   and   given   the   choice   ,   she   imagines   the   path   he   would   have   taken   would   look   quite   a   bit   different   from   the   one   he   currently   found   himself   on   .   still   ,   her   sympathy   over   the   matter   only   extends   so   far   .   there   isn’t   a   part   of   her   that   regrets   the   family   she’s   chosen   for   herself   .   ❝   a   shame   ,   then   ,   that   we   continue   to   make   it   difficult   for   you   to   fulfill   that   goal   .   ❞

fondness     springs     so     easily     ,     a     second     -     nature     devotion     that     sinks     into     muscle          &          warms     it     from     within          ;          the     smile     he     offers     her     is     the     most     genuine     he’s     been     able     to     prompt     all     week     .          (          &          that’s     the     𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖          :          there     will     always     be     a     part     of     him     ,     terrified     of     it     as     he     is     ,     that     will     LOVE     her     until     the     wretched     breath     leaves     his     lungs     .     it’s     impossible     to     weather     the     metaphorical     slings          &          arrows     of     their     kind     of     relationship          &          not     come     out     the     other     side     enamoured     for     life     .          )          ❛          this     is     true     ,     you’ve     NEVER     avoided     the     opportunity     to     don     your     finest     .     and     that     it     is     ,     you’re     a     vision     .          ❜          appraising     glance     flits     up          &          down     ,          &          that     damned     dimple     at     the     corner     of     his     mouth     pops     again     ,     traitorous     thing     .          ❛          you     look     wonderful     ,     zolotse     .     truly     .          ❜               when     he     offers     compliments     on     silver     platters     ,     they     aren’t     𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙚𝙙     with     the     same     kind     of     dangerous     flirtation     that     they     carried     when     they     were     young     ,     twenty     -     somethings     with     ambition     dripping     viperous     on     sharpened     fangs     .     instead     ,     they’re     tinged     with     something     sentimental     ,     something     he     hasn’t     heard     in     his     own     voice     for     quite     some     time     now     .          ❛          i’m     surprised     it     even     fits     ,          ❜          attention     now     drawn     to     the     lapels     of     his     jacket     ,     the     sharp     crease     of     trousers     ,          —     —-     -          ❛          i     hardly     get     the     chance     to     wear     it     .     i’m     sure     my     patients     would     be     charmed     ,     though     ,     if     i     did     my     𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒     in     a     three     -     piece     .          ❜

“I certainly try, Madame Karkaroff.” The Karkaroffs are, in all rights, a dangerous family to be involved with, if only for how much power and influence they hold. Ambrose has watched them work from afar for long enough to know at least that much. Charming and persuasive, with names of pedigree and weight to boot. More often than not, he opts to stay out of their circle, if only because it also keeps him out of their line of fire. But in this instance, just this once, he really could use the assistance. And he really doesn’t feel like continuing this conversation with Mr. Blackwood right now, so if he just… takes the offer, well. Who’s to blame him? There’s a flicker, just a passing moment, of gratefulness in his eyes as she offers the escape. “I’d enjoy that quite a bit.” His gaze passes from Eulalia to his company for a moment and the most faux of smiles crosses his lips. “Perhaps we can continue this another time, Mr. Blackwood?” He barely gives him time to respond before stepping away and offering his arm to his new company. “Shall we?”

             ❝   𝐨𝐟   𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭   𝐢   𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞   𝐧𝐨   𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭  ,   elder   selwyn   .   ❞   eulalia   steps   into   his   space   and   takes   his   arm   with   an   ease   borne   from   YEARS   of   practice   ,   a   pointed   kind   of   feminine   grace   ,   even   if   eulalia   wasn’t   quite   so   familiar   with   the   man   .      the   fact   that   they’re   near   strangers   does   not   bother   her   in   the   slightest   ,   let   alone   is   it   something   she   would   allow   to   show   on   her   face   while   she   was   out   in   public   .   ambrose   selwyn   was   more   of   a   neutral   party   :   someone   who   was   neither   fully   in   their   pocket   nor   was   he   ever   directly   in   their   way   .   eulalia   had   a   healthy   dose   of   respect   for   people   who   kept   to   their   own   council   ,   even   if   it   was   less   than   convenient   for   her   if   they   weren’t   strictly   in   her   corner   .   still   ,   politesse   was   her   armor   and   she   bore   it   with   a   grin   .   softening   herself   in   his   view   was   only   a   perk   to   the   impromptu   meeting   .   ❝   terribly   sorry   to   be   taking   your   companion   for   the   afternoon   ,   mr.   blackwood   ,   but   i   am   a   B U S Y   woman   .   have   to   squeeze   in   a   break   when   i   can   .   you   understand   ,   don’t   you   ?   ❞      she   demures   ,   a   kindly   smile   taking   over   her   features   even   though   she   barely   bothers   to   listen   to   his   hasty   platitudes   ,   already   turning   back   towards   ambrose   .   ❝   again   ,   thank   you   for   the   escort   .   apparently   i   cannot   be   trusted   to   keep   track   of   my   own   items   when   i’m   out   and   about   .   ❞

           𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡   𝐞𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚   𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬   𝐭𝐨   let   out   is   caught   behind   the   press   of   her   lips   but   her   eyes   twinkle   with   amusement   at   the   statement   .   years   spent   in   this   family   and   the   things   they   say   only   continue   to   be   funny   to   her   .   ❝   i’m   sure   that’s   not   true   .   we’ve   known   each   other   for   so   long   at   this   point   ,   ❞   she   says   .   her   strained   relationship   with   ‘   her   ’   kids   has   done   nothing   but   allow   her   the   pleasure   of   pushing   at   boundaries   ,   at   egging   niko   on   to   see   what   new   style   of   flirtation   he   might   test   out   with   her   .   ❝   take   for   instance   :   i   didn’t   go   here   .   your   father   didn’t   go   here   .   somehow   ,   we   still   ended   up   married   and   attending   these   insipid   gatherings   .   ❞   memorials   were   for   those   who   were   remembering   .   eulalia   had   nothing   much   here   to   mourn   .   ❝   i   immigrated   here   from   france   and   i   used   to   be   an   ambassador   .   t h e r e   ,   ❞   this   time   ,   she   doesn’t   stop   the   smile   from   curling   around   her   teeth   .   ❝   now   you   know   some   things   about   me   .   ❞

                  location :            diagon     alley  (  unspecified  )                  status :                open !  - @startertms​​            

                            magic   can  certainly   mend   a   broken   heel .   fleur  takes  a  temporary  comfort  in  this  as  she  jolts  to  the  side ,  and  then  forward .  she  is  a  seasoned  professional  in  navigating  the  uneven  cobblestones  of  diagon  alley ,  and  if  asked  she  will  say  as  much  .  it  appears  that  one  of  the  stones  just  cobbled   a  bit  more  than  usual ,  catching  her  soft  blue  heel  in  its  wrath ,  and  sending  her  stumbling .  ❛❛     merde !   ❜❜        after  nearly  falling ,  she  stares  at  the  shoe  &  its  broken  appendage  with  a vengeance ,  as  if  waiting  for  the  object  to  apologize .  ❛❛   va  te  faire  foutre ! ❜❜  its  just  then  that  she  realizes  her  spectacle  is  just  that .

                             eyes  widen ,  a  frustrated  huff  at  the  shoe ,  before  she  turns  her  head  in  the  direction  of  the  other . 

                            ❛❛  we   could  just  pretend  this  didn’t  happen  - -   save  ourselves  the  terribly  awkward  conversation  of  you  pretending  it  wasn’t  terribly  funny  at  my  expense ,  no  ?     ❜❜

perhaps     there’s     something     to     be     said     ,     about     idle     hands          &          playing     host     to     the     devil’s     workshop          ;          restless     palms     can’t     seem     to     alight     anywhere     comfortable     enough     .     it     speaks     volumes     to     the     way     he’s     divorced     himself     so     completely     from     grandeur     like     this          —     -          velvet     is     simultaneously     a     sumptuous     comfort     beneath     roughened     fingertips     when     they     stray     to     plush     surroundings     ,          &          yet     he     still     jerks     against     it     .          (          prodigal     son     𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃     himself     to     something     ascetic     ,     there’s     got     to     be     something     awfully     poetic     about     it     .          )          a     strange     push          &          pull     between     discomfort          &          succor     seems     to     𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎     every     lean     line     of     muscle     ,     but     it’s     nothing     compared     to     the     way     he     positively     freezes     .          jesus     ,     what     kind     of     biblical     punishment     is     this          ?          pet     names     called     out               &          designed     to     drip     saccharine     ,     christ     ,     why     is     there     the     vaguest     predication     to     preen     when     eulalia     calls     out     in     a     𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆𝗲𝗱     tone     he’ll     never     QUITE     forget          ?          “          zolotse     .          ”          how     he’d     hoped     the     syllable     would     thicken     in     his     mouth     ,     twist     something     UGLY          /          instead     ,     there’s     a     fluid     warmth     to     it     .          “          i     suppose     i     should’ve     expected     to     see     you     here     .          ”

         𝐞𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚   𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬   𝐚𝐧   𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐰   𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭  the   bannister   ,   eyes   scanning   over   the   front   entryway   of   the   merlin’s   music   hall   .   the   flashing   camera   lights   continue   to   flood   over   the   front   steps   .   it   is   a   night   of   firsts   :   the   first   time   the   music   hall   has   opened   the   doors   for   an   event   like   this   AND   the   first   time   the   minister   and   his   wife   have   been   seen   so   prominently   in   the   public   eye   since   the   attack   on   valentine’s   day   .   eulalia   watches   the   bustle   with   an   impassive   eye   .   there’s   something   arrogant   in   the   tilt   of   her   chin   ,   in   the   cant   of   her   hip   ,   in   the   surveying   look   she   visits   upon   her   fellow   opera   -   goers   as   everyone   files   into   the   theater   proper   .   it’s   a   pause   in   her   trip   back   from   the   powder   room   —   a   passing   glance   ,   really   —   but   a   pause   that   proves   fruitful   when   she   spots   him   below   her   .   like   a   shark   who   smells   blood   in   the   water   ,   her   lips   curl   over   her   teeth  .   all   it   takes   is   her   calling   out   one   word   with   a   single   wave   of   her   hand   to   have   the   bindings   of   propriety   fall   over   the   both   of   them   :   ❝   mischa   .   ❞

location: outside the M.O.M.  status: open ( @startertms​ ) 

“–and of course, I would love to be helpful to your employer’s campaign, however–” 

Though certainly a man of many things to do and many places to be, Ambrose Selwyn is nothing if not a gentleman in public. And as such, it’s his responsibility to do exactly as he does now–stoop down to grab the wallet fallen asunder to the cobblestone. Clearing his throat in preparation for raising his voice, the wix stands to his full height and starts light jog after the wallet’s presumed owner. 

“Excuse me–excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you, but is this yours?”