#mutarestarters

Almost everything Narcissa Black did was for show, a way of keeping up her public image. She was a social butterfly, juggling various obligations with seeming ease: the epitome of a Pureblood daughter. It was just as much for something to do as it was for image, though, that had Narcissa sitting at a table with a large gift basket on it in the Atrium of the Ministry. It had been easy enough to get permission. She batted her eyelashes, smiled, and said the Blacks would be ever so grateful, and she was in. If her parents asked, it was because she was putting on a show, making their family name look good. For Narcissa it was something to do. 

Everyone around her seemed to be in turmoil lately. They were all choosing sides. Narcissa had not even been asked to yet. She wasn’t sure whether it was because no one wanted her, or they were simply unconcerned with the youngest Black daughter. Perhaps they assumed they already knew her loyalties. Narcissa couldn’t say they were wrong, but her lack of purpose led to a sense of limbo. She did not have the fiery resolve of her oldest sister, nor the courage to make her own way like Andromeda. So Narcissa was doing one of the things she did best: sitting there and looking pretty. 

“Did you want to enter the raffle for the gift basket?” she asked, smiling winningly at the wizard who had stopped to take a look. She caught the gaze of a witch walking by and smiled at her too. “All the proceeds go to helping with the cost of rebuilding the Hog’s Head.” It was a logical thing to do, a gesture of goodwill. It would make people think kindly of Narcissa, and by extension, her family.

Emilia wasn’t made for winter. She preferred spring and summer when the world seemed a little lighter and she did not have to hide between multiple layers of clothing, only to still shiver. Of course, she didn’t completely hate winter: she liked the way snow looked -- especially here in Scotland -- and didn’t entirely mind thick coats and jumpers. Still, the cold and short days were enough to damper her spirit and make her agitated to walk through Hogsmeade.

This was rare; Emilia wasn’t easily annoyed or frustrated, but with the snow sticking under her heeled boots and her nose growing more and more cold with the second, she couldn’t help herself. Deciding to give herself a bit of warmth, she entered the Three Broomsticks, blowing on her fingers as she did so. “That’s it,” she stated, shaking some snowflakes from her hair. “I’m moving to Spain until the winter is over.”

Location: Imperio Date: Friday night-Saturday morning

Hestia sat on one of the chairs in the now quiet nightclub. There was a murmur of voices, but nothing like the raucous party that had been taking place only a few hours before. Her hands clasped together, clutching at each other. She was her own lifeline, as always. Trying to hold herself together. 

Tonight was supposed to be fun! How did it go so wrong? She was starting to think she should just avoid these events. Last time, she had broken her arm, this time...this time she was one step away from being accused of murder. 

The girl swallowed, though her throat was dry. No one could believe that she had done this, right? Her wand had gone missing, it wasn’t her fault! She resisted the urge to hide her face in her hands. She didn’t want to look guilty, or too worried. Though how could she not be? 

It was late and all she wanted was to go home. She wanted to kick her animals off the bed so she could crawl in and then have them cuddle around her. She wanted her coat, anything to ward off the chill that was seeping through her. She was exhausted from answering Auror’s questions, and from the stress and worry. They hadn’t given her wand back yet, not after she identified it as hers. 

Mary was trailing through Diagon Alley, bag filled with newly bought owl treats, pens and other small things she needed, as well as the book she’d treated herself on — she found herself reading a lot more those days ( whenever she had free time ) as it was an easy distraction. One that came cheap, and didn’t lead to hangovers or feelings of guilt.

The events of the past month were stuck in her mind, like a constantly stuck post-it note, reminding her of the fragile state of the Order, of RED, of herself. She’d been working hard to get RED’s security back up, while also starting up small projects with the donated money. She felt continuously unsafe, even though she tried to shake it constantly. How could she not, with everything that had happened in Imperio and at her festival? She wished to go home, to visit her family and talk about something else but war and risks. But even that was something she feared doing --- what if that put her family at risk?

In stead, she was in Wizarding London, aware of the dangers it brought and stuck feeling powerless once again.

Somewhere along the way, Mary got lost too lost in her thoughts to pay attention to her surroundings. While Diagon Alley wasn’t as busy as it had been years ago, she still managed to crash her heavy bag against another person’s legs. “Morgana’s saggy t—,” she began, before flustering slightly. “I mean: sorry.”

It had taken a solid week for Marlene to convince herself that getting out of her hotel room, or pub, would be a good change. She'd spent too long locked up, drowning her worries in whatever booze came her way. So, she'd dragged herself out of her blanket cocoon, grimaced as she downed another vile of polyjuice and gotten made up for the first time in months. Ted would be so proud, even though she knew he wouldn't want her going as Aisha. But for all intents and purposes, Marlene McKinnon would remain dead, buried in the ground and forgotten from the minds of too many people for her to want to think about it.

The carnival was just as packed as she thought it would be and despite her budding excitement, Marlene's heart dropped into her stomach when she took note of the banners celebrating RED. Mary's RED. But there was no way she was going to encounter Mary here and if she did, the other woman wouldn't recognize her, wouldn't even know the truth staring her in the face. The thoughts hurt, a knife twisting deeper into her chest, so Marlene pushed them away and entered the carnival, navigating through the thick crowds of people.

It didn't take long for Marlene to realize it was impossible not to smile, the energy of the carnival was contagious, sinking into her skin from all sides. Though she didn't take part in any of the attractions, there was something delightful about being able to watch from afar, live vicariously through the laughing children and their proud parents. For the first time in months, Marlene's worries faded into the back of her mind without the help of a substance. She came to a stop in the Harvest Moons section, the charmed night lit up with candles from all angles. Beautiful. It wasn't until she was turning away from a stall, warm cider in hand that Marlene was jostled out of her thoughts when she collided with another body, her drink painting their shirt a few shades darker. "Fuckin' - I'm so, so sorry about that. You alright? It didn't burn you or anythin'?" She asked in a rush, instinctively using her sleeve to rub at the wet spot on their shirt. "I'm a bit of a clutz, sorry, but I'll give you money for another."  

There had never been a time that Andromeda could have described herself as carefree and not have felt as though it was a lie. Happy, content and even overjoyed were all things she would easily claim to have felt but she had never been a woman without worries or concerns and with things as they were, it had never been more true. Except for a few hours at the carnival, she had begun to wonder if that was what being carefree felt like. She wasn’t naive enough to think that tensions would dissipate solely for an event like the one she was attending but the hours she’d spent with her daughter and husband, distracted by all the wonderful things that there were to see and do, had kindled some sort of hope in her that it might have been possible for things to be simple for a little while.

Except what ever illusions she had allowed herself to entertain, however briefly, had soon been shattered with a simple buzz of her phone as a news update had come through. Logic told her that the car derailing could have been an accident but she had always been opposed to the idea of coincidence, especially when lives were put in danger during a time of unrest. The only thing that she was thankful for was that her daughter had been too engrossed in meeting Santa Claus to notice that anything was wrong with either her mother or anyone else around them. 

Now the pair of them were tackling a hot chocolate, the cup wrapped in Andromeda’s hands as Nymphadora plucked the marshmallows out of the cream. She had always been determined to hold up some appearance of normality for her daughter’s sake. A fond smile rests upon her lips as she wipes cream from the little girl’s nose with a small laugh. There’s movement out of the corner of her eye and she turns to face whoever seemed to be approaching, her expression solemn once more.

Location: Unusual Defense Methods Conference

Availability: @addisonkettleburn

Andromeda had been quite apprehensive when she’d been asked to attend the Ministry conference. In case things get... out of hand, the woman she’d spoken to had said. There were too many people who worked for the Ministry that Andromeda had no desire to run into, much less be healing and what on Earth did they have planned for this conference that they needed a healer on hand?

Although she was nervous, Andromeda had never been one to let her emotions betray her. The last thing she wanted was some stuffy pureblood seeing her and telling her parents that they’d seen her and she’d looked miserable. Not that she still cared what her parents thought of her. She didn’t care what they thought, right? That’s why she’d come here, because she wasn’t afraid of what she’d left behind.

Merlin, she needed a drink. “Addison!” She might not have been the person she was most hoping to see, but she was a friendly enough face. Someone to help distract her from her thoughts. “Is this a dry event or something? Or is the ministry too cheap to provide alcohol now?”