knockturnburke-blog

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Date: Friday, March 2 Location: Charity Auction; Macdougal Purveyors Open For All

Macdougal Senior had been a fervent rival of his father’s, for no other reason than that his father had uncontrollable bouts of jealousy, but when Octavius had taken over the business, he had sought him out to mend fences and put his father’s ugliness behind them both. They had struck a tentative truce, and after several years of helping each other and referring customers back and forth, their business relationship had grown stronger and mutually beneficial. Many people would have looked at Octavius in another Auctioneers as odd, but he liked to support the establishment. It was a lot older than his family’s own and unlike his father, he saw no benefit to Borgin and Burkes in a rivalry. 

Walking through the store, avoiding the crowds the best he could and sipping complimentary, and rather disgusting, champagne, he perused some of the items up for auction. The business had not been doing as badly as it could have been, considering the many raids from overzealous aurors, and he had a few galleons to spare for the right item, for the right charity. He would not be reselling the item as many other Auctioneers might, and he had spotted a few milling about with galleon signs in their eyes, but had decided to buy something for himself that he could enjoy, if he could find something that was.

“Interesting markings...” he murmured under his breath, running his hand along the worn leather edge of a trunk.

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roman-jadore‌:

“Well I didn’t expect it to be free,” Roman huffed out a laugh and leaned back in his seat, resisting the urge to outwardly roll his eyes, “Money’s not a concern. I just need results.”

He knew he’d not be able to do this the legal way- he didn’t have the patience, nor the inclination to go through all the trouble. Roman knew this was his only feasible option, and he was ready to offer up whatever it took to get what he wanted- not that he’d let Octavius know that.

“So, how much is it that you want?” he adjusted his cufflinks as he spoke, “Just give me a rough estimate. And,” he let the word draw out, pausing as a crescendo of music swelled from the orchestra pit below. The ballet, it seemed, was also reaching its crux. “I trust that procuring what I want won’t take you too long. It’ll be dreadfully boring if you don’t come through on your end.”

If all went well, this wouldn’t be the only time Roman would do dealings of this nature through Octavius. This was better left unsaid, for the moment. 

“I’m glad to hear it, Mr Delacour” he murmured, listening the other man speak and thinking to himself that he must like the sound of his own voice. Octavius was no stranger to such a thing, since he frequently enjoyed the sound of his own, when he spoke of something that excited him. 

“Rough estimate, throwing in the offer to hinder the Ministry in their bid to destroy my business?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in question, before pursing his lips and adding up expenses, risk and compensation should things go terribly wrong. “A thousand galleons. Once I have spoken to a few of my contacts I will have a definitely time scale for you, though I estimate no longer than two weeks” he put to the man. He could do it more quickly, and for less, but he wanted to see whether Roman would try and negotiate first. 

“You have heard of my reputation, have you not?” he said, his eyes fixed on the ballet that was, quite frankly, yawn inducing. “I always deliver”.

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henrysayre‌:

February 16th - Early Morning

The Leaky Cauldron

Open Starter

Having opted for a morning with coffee and a donut proved to be eventful the moment Henry settled in a stool by the counter and grabbed the copy of the daily prophet on the countertop. His eyes scanned over the report about the Interim Minister’s so called “resolution.” He balled the paper up and was ready to rip it to shreds but hesitated, a frown creasing over his features.

“Bollocks,” He grimaced. “This is rubbish.” He then unfolded the mess of paper and cautiously went through it until he found Emerson’s work, promptly smoothing that out and separating it from the rest. Henry balled what was left of the paper up and cast it aside, mumbling incoherently under his breath while he read over Emerson’s section.

He had entered the Leaky Cauldron that morning after having received a message from the bartender that Borgin had fallen into a drunken sleep in one of the booths the night before, and they had simply left him there. Burke had not blamed them, though being woken up so early to collect his “business partner” had not been his idea of a good start to the day. Nodding to the bartender, he heaved Borgin over off of his seat and planned to move him out of the establishment, until he heard a familiar voice.

“Usually is” Octavius commented in Henry’s direction, dumping Borgin into a nearby chair and approaching the bar. He ordered two large coffees in takeout cups for the two of them, before turning back to Henry. “Which part were you reading today, that put you in such a bad mood so early in the morning?” he asked picking up the papers that Henry had cast aside. 

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ophelia-alana-greengrass‌:

She had not known what was going to happen that night but knew it would be nothing happy. There was a strange chill in the air that night as she had gotten ready hours before. It made her quiver, even now. With chaos erupting constantly, part of her would like to think she had grown used to it, but even now that was a lie. It pained her to see others hurting. It wasn’t right, but she wasn’t really at the best place to state such thoughts aloud, especially given the company. She chuckled half-heartedly, “Thanks. Something I pride myself one. Being convincing when it matters.” 

She nod of thanks at the exchange as she placed the lighter against the bud of the cigarette placed between her lips and inhaled. Closing her eyes as the burn trailed down her throat and dampened the sound of screams with each passing breathe. She sighed letting out the smoke as it dissipated with the smoke-filled air. The memory of sneaking into her father’s cigar box flashed within her mind. She snickered softly shaking her head. My how things have changed. 

“That feels better. At least something to drown out the screams. Indulge me. What has you here on this sidewalk with me tonight?” It might be a risky question, but given the chaos below it felt like a normal question. She couldn't change things that were going on down below. Not unless she was willing to get hurt, and right now, that wasn’t a smart option. 

He heard a faint shout in the distance as he handed over the lighter and half empty packet of cigarettes. Most pureblood women did not smoke, for it was seen as unladylike, however he had noticed a growing trend of rebelliousness in some of the younger pureblood women and he smirked to himself every time he found another example. “You should. it’s not an easy feat for everyone. In fact, I know more than a few people who are terrible at it” he shrugged, taking the cigarette packet back again and shoving them into his pocket.

“Can you drown out such high pitched screams so easily?” he inquired, his eyebrow twitching upwards. He could block them quite easily, but after everything he had done on the Dark Lord’s behalf, a few screams did not concern or alarm him. He had seen and participated in much worse. “I was gift shopping for my betrothed. Despite the Minister’s crusade to wipe out Valentines day as though it will result in any meaningful change, I figured she still deserved a token of my affection at least”.

“What are you doing out here, or in there before you stepped outside?” he asked, leaning back against the wall and rolling a cigarette between his fingers,s taring across the road. She may have replied to him, or she may have not, but in that moment a figure moving around in a shop across the road caught his eye. “What are they doing...?”

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dailydoseofem‌:

Emerson stifled a laugh, covering up her rather un-ladylike snort with a cough. She did that more often than she’d care to admit- that is, laughing to cover up the fact that she felt awkward.

“I do come here often, actually,” she admitted, “They make the best-fitting suits in all of London. Oh, listen to me. I sound like a walking advertisement.” 

Her gaze shifted between Octavius and the tape still taking her measurements, trying to decide which was better to focus on while they spoke. She settled on watching the measuring tape.

“Everyone knows dresses have never been my thing,” she added, trying to be blasé about it, “This is usually the time I come for fittings, too. I’m surprised we’ve not run into each other here sooner.”

She wondered what he could be here for. Emerson tried to not to judge a book by its cover, but Octavius Burke had never struck her as a man that worried about a sharp suit and tie. And that wasn’t a bad thing- she knew some men who worked alongside her at the Daily Prophet whose personalities were built on one simple thing- looking good in a suit- and they were some of the most dreadfully boring people she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Then again, perhaps she was generalizing.

His lips twitched as he observed her stifle a laugh with a fake cough, something he had witnessed before, though not necessarily from her. He didn’t mind that he had made her laugh, since it was better than the scowls that were usually thrown in his direction. “You should start charging them for the honor” he smirked, agreeing that she had almost begun to sound like an advertisement.

“It is common knowledge, yes, and not a bad thing at all, to go against the norm” he complimented, as the assistant came back to him and showed him the suit that he had chosen with a look of pride on his face. Raising his eyebrow at the man and without speaking a word, he told the man exactly what he thought of the suit. The assistant ran off once more, looking either furious, determined or a mixture of the two.

“I am not. I have had the same suit and tie for years while working in the shop and never thought twice to replace them. Ava and my mother however are insistent that for our wedding, I wear something appropriate, new and apparently expensive” he explained. “It’s probably a good thing you are here though, I thought I could do this by myself but either my taste is hard to please or my assistant is an idiot”.

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halfnott‌:

Date: Feburary 14th, late evening Location: St. Mungo’s, Fourth Floor, Private Suite Closed Starter with @knockturnburke

The kindness of Charles Avery and the quickness of the healer’s attention had apparently saved her from what could have been permanent damage from the bone-vanishing Ava had experienced in the riots. Magic could do many things, but her body was not infallible and indeed still fragile, and it would not have been able to fix what could have been broken. At least, according to the Healer-in-Charge that had been seeing to Ava personally. Ava figured it was because of her family’s donations if not just the fact her last name was practically gilded and priceless in the eyes of many institutions. Treat a Nott, get hundreds of galleons as a donation for the good care they were provided.

And Ava had been getting excellent care. The Skele-Grow was administered in all the right amounts -being a potion master, Ava could tell just how much she needed once the panic left and a bit of perk-up potion had been administered to combat shock- and all the appropriate people had been notified of her admittance. In fact, she was asked who her emergency contacts were once she arrived and she didn’t hesitate at all to name Octavius alongside her father as the two people that had to be found. Mr. Nott had shown up not long after she’d been asked, worry in his face that felt strange to see. He’d immediately had her moved to a private suite on the fourth floor -spell damage wing, though hers was not as permanent as many others that were there, but still considered long term- and furnished with so many comforts, including a personal trainee healer to get her whatever she needed. The girl was just as young as Ava, and they gossiped over the newest Witch Weekly (which yes, mentioned her ‘fabulous upcoming wedding’, but there were other articles to gab over) before the tall looming figure of Octavius Burke had darkened the door.

“Nellie, you don’t have to sit with me anymore, no matter how much gold my father promised your superior.“ Ava said to the young woman next to her, and before she could respond, the future Mrs. Burke raised a hand. “Take the magazines and go to the break room or something. I’m sure you’ve been busy all night and will be later.“ With a cautious nod, the witch left the two alone and instantly Ava turned to Octavius with a pout on her lips, looking like a broken angel with her dark curls framing her face and her leg splinted and bandaged to guide the growing bones.

“Someone hit me with a bone-vanishing hex. I have to regrow them, and it’s terrible. I do so desire the company of my handsome fiance to make me feel better.“ Her hand reached out for him from her larger-than-needed sickbed, engagement ring glittering in the low light. “Also sweets, but I can wait for those. You, I cannot.“

Octavius had been in the store for a little over an hour, before his drunkard of a business partner had deemed it the right time to hand him the letter that had arrived for him, whilst he had been at the Market. Upon reading the first line, he thrust out his hand and wrapped his fingers around Borgin’s neck, demanding to know why Borgin had not given him the letter sooner. Borgin spluttered in panic, attempting to give a suitable explanation as to why he had not given Octavius the letter the moment he had stepped into the store, (there was none), but Octavius ignored the man while he finished reading the words that had been scribbled to him by a Healer at St Mungos. He only let go of Borgin once the last word on the parchment had passed through his mind, and without a backwards glance, he muttered that he would deal with the man later and stormed from the store. 

He knew he had frightened the receptionist at St Mungos when she had paled at the sight of him, and half squeaked a reply to the question he had growled in her direction. He wanted to know where his fiancee was and who had hurt her, though he had not directed his second question to her. He was saving that one for someone whom might have a better idea about how to answer it. Without waiting for a healer to be summoned and escort him, or provide him with answers regarding Ava’s condition, he stormed off towards the fourth floor, holding on tightly to his anger and attempting to ignore the fear that pushed alongside it. Anger he was familiar with, he could control it and direct it accordingly, but fear was not a familiar emotion for him. The thought of Ava lying broken and bloody struck fear deep into his heart and in an attempt not to let it paralyze him, he focused on his anger towards the nameless one who had put her in the hospital in the first place.

When he finally reached her room, he stopped in the doorway and ran his eyes over her, taking in the damage that had been caused to his betrothed, and the cheerfully chatty healer at her side whose voice had already began to annoy, despite only having heard it for a little under a minute. He was glad when Ava caught his eye and dismissed the healer from the room, leaving the two of them alone in each other’s company. He left his anger at the door as he stepped into the room and closed it behind him, knowing that bringing it with him would only cause Ava further distress and upset. She was fragile after all, and she did not need to see him lose his temper, even if it was not directed at her and more at himself, for not having been there for her. 

He wanted to ask if she knew who it had been, but he knew the question could wait. As she called him handsome, his eyebrows rose slightly in surprise but he moved towards her and took her hand as she held it out to him, drawing him closer to her. “I am glad that you desire my company love, and I will admit that you scared me for a moment there” he said, perching on the bed beside her, facing her, his eyes still running over her. Sighing softly, he let her hand go and cupped her cheeks instead, leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. He drew away after a moment but didn’t move far, and instead rested his forehead against hers.

“I will get you all the sweets you desire. I am sorry I was not here earlier, my business partner is an incompetent idiot” he muttered, a small trace of anger in his tone. “How did you get here?”

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ophelia-alana-greengrass‌:

The night had been seemingly uneventful feast-wise by Ophelia’s standards. Then again, tonight, she was not all that into love, romance, and sweet treats. The word of sacrifice seemed more foreboding than anything else. After not seeing Ernest for a few weeks, to be assumed she would be on his arm, even though she was, was laughable now. She merely felt like a constellation price. Not long after they entered the party, he was already off and attached to his friends, cigar in hand. Thank Merlin for her brother. 

For most of the night, she sat in a sulk watching Ernest within the sides of her eyes. By eleven her brother had disappeared for a smoke and she was left alone. Nothing out of the usual though. She should really have been used to it by now.  Currently, she just felt like a sad sap tired of her own self-loathing. Sighing, Ophelia removed herself from the chair she had planted her bottom in for far too long and walked outside to the streets for some air. At least the music had been enjoyable. It was like being whipped in the face. Fires, chaos, and screams broke out into the night as she entered. 

When she turned she was surprised to see a face she acknowledged but did not know all that well. What she expected to be fresh air was more anxiety-ridden than she would have liked to admit. Maybe that was what the night was supposed to be, though she wouldn’t give Octavius the pleasure in seeing her true emotion. She hated to hide, but now was a time she would need to. 

With a thin smile of acknowledgment, she nodded, “Fine.” Glancing over at his hand which dropped a silver flip lighter into it, she nodded back towards it,  “You have another?” It might not be lady-like sure, but all she could think was ‘fuck it’ at this point. Who really cared?  

The world around him changed in the blink of an eye, though it did not surprise or startle him as it would have done many others. He had known of Malfoy’s plans and rolled his eyes at them, and when he had heard the muggleborns plans to defy him and celebrate Valentines day anyway, his eyes has rolled so hard they had almost fallen from their sockets. Neither side’s plans had appealed to him and he had simply decided to act in the way he thought best, where Ava was concerned. The Deatheaters and some others had decided it would be fun to ruin the festivities for muggleborns, but given his recent acts for the Dark Lord, he had rationalized that he deserved a night off from ‘all of that’.

As he recognised the face of Ophelia Greengrass stepping down onto the pavement beside him, he took a look at her face and glanced around them, at the chaos that had begun to erupt and asked whether she was okay. It was the gentlemanly, polite thing to do after all, since telling her to get back inside where it would most likely be safer for her was out of the question. If she was anything like the other women he knew, she would bash him over the head for even thinking to suggest such a thing. “You’re very convincing, but I won’t push my luck” he said, holding his hands up in a show of surrender.

He raised an eyebrow at her request. “These?” he asked, lifting the cigarettes to her eye level. Shaking his surprise away, he placed the lighter and box together and handed them too her. She had not struck him as the type, but then neither had his mother and he had caught her smoking not long ago. “There you go” he murmured, “world’s gone to shit out here, don’t blame you”.

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Date: February 14, 1979 | Valisblot & Valentines Location: Carkitt Market  With: @ophelia-alana-greengrass

What had happened to Regulus had not sat well with Octavius. He had been there, against his better judgement and the voices screaming bloody murder in his head, condemning him, collecting the blood of the innocents and looking back at Charles, Richard and Regulus for solidarity and support. When it had been announced by the Dark Lord that the last sacrifice was to be Regulus Black, Octavius’s silver tongue had turned to lead and he had almost choked in shock. Several murmurs had risen through the group and eyes had widened behind masks, but the Dark Lord had compelled them all to be quiet, or be forced to replace him. Octavius had spent many since trying not to think about what had happened next.

Octavius had joined the Dark Lord’s ranks out of greed, a need for power and to prove himself a worthy pureblood male, despite his name and his father’s terrible life choices. While he still believed in the cause, or he believed in many of the principals that it had once seemed to stand for, killing one of their own had twisted him up inside. As a result, Valentines day, or Valisblot, had almost completely escaped any thought in his mind, until the afternoon of February fourteenth when Borgin had oddly been the one to remind him of Abraxas Malfoy’s planned sacrificial feast and the rebellious valentines celebrations that would take place. While he had no desire to celebrate either, he knew that Ava would, like most women, desire something as a show of affection and so leaving Borgin in charge, he set out to purchase something for his fiancee and planned to meet her after the feast.

He headed for Carkitt Market, lost in his own thoughts and barely paying attention to the happenings around him. He could hear music and laughter, and headed from one small store to another, moving further into the market down cobblestone steps. He purchased several items for Ava, his mother, Violet and finally himself, before stopping outside a bar and propping himself against the wall, one foot against the floor and the other against the stone wall. He had one hand in his pocket, turning a lighter over in his hand and was debating whether to smoke for the first time in many years, something he had not done since his father had been alive, when the door next to him opened and a familiar, yet unfamiliar face stepped out onto the street. Music followed her as the door opened and became almost indistinguishable against the noise of the market again when it shut behind her. 

“You okay there?” he asked, tilting his head slightly and dropping the lighter into his pocket, choosing not to succumb to weakness just yet. 

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Avan Jogia

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roman-jadore‌:

Their little conversation had reached its crux, and it seemed it was time for Roman to get straight to the point. He waved a dismissive hand in response to Octavius’ reply, rings glinting as they caught the low light.

“I can assure you, you can rely on me to come through on my end. You’ll find my offer is entirely generous, considering how simple my request should be for someone like you.” 

His gaze was on the dancers again while he spoke. As a child, he’d learned the subtle artistry of ballet actually required very practised, calculated movements; every grand jeté and pas assemblé was as much an art as it was a science. Conversation was the same, in that regard.

“I need a Phoenix,”  he stated, “Unfortunately, getting one’s hands on such a magical creature isn’t exactly…easy. Hence why I’ve come to you. I’ve heard you can get a wizard just about anything he wants.”

Roman let his gaze return to the other man’s, delicately quirking an eyebrow.

“Is this the part where we negotiate?”

Octavius did not think there was any point in reminding Roman that he did not know him well, and could not simply take his word on the fact that he believed himself reliable and trustworthy. He had a feeling that his words would fall upon deaf ears and it would be a waste of his time and breath to continue arguing the point. Instead, he listened intently to what the other an had to say, even though his eyes focused more on the dancers than the man sitting beside him.

“You mean that it is not entirely legal” he corrected, his voice low as if he thought anyone could be listening to the two of them discuss such a topic. Phoenix’s were rare, extremely rare, incredibly valuable and the transportation of one, not to mention the ownership process could take months, if not years, and never reach a conclusion if put through the proper channels at the Ministry of Magic’s Control of Magical Creatures department. 

“It is not a surprise that you would come through less legitimate channels with such a request, given the Ministry’s position on matters such as these. I am a man with that reputation it’s true...” he murmured, running his fingers over the soft beard that he had allowed to grow over his chin and jaw line. 

“I suppose it is, but I must warn you, my services do not come cheap”.

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charlesalexei‌:

“As have I,” Charles shook his head. “But I appreciate your friendship nonetheless.” He was incredibly grateful to include Octavius on the small list of people he trusted. Having not been the type of person to easily make friends left him happy with the few that he had. “In case I haven’t mentioned that recently.”

Charles took a sip from his beer then shook his head. “If I took these sort of things seriously I would look into jotting down the answers to the muggle ones. Last time they asked a question about a band and there were too many names involved to even bother trying.”

He smirked at the only slightly younger man. Given his reputation, friendship had not been something he had come by easily, and their friendship had been peculiar in it’s beginnings, but he agreed with Charles. No matter what he said or how he said it, he had begun to appreciate the value of friendship and just how useful having friends could be. “You haven’t, but neither have I so I can’t exactly fault you for it”.

“If it’s names and you know the age range then narrowing down the possibilities based on popularity of names of the time would be the only way to genuinely guess. I should have brought Ava, she is fascinated by these things for some reason” he murmured, opting not to mention his love of muggle jazz, thanks to his grandfather. “You look a little low, want another?” he asked, pointing to the beer.

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knockturnburke‌:

“So I have heard” he murmured, raising an eyebrow. His client has been the one to get him into the event, as a thank you for the service Octavius had provided, which had needed to be above and beyond those that he usually performed. The items procured had simply been a nightmare from start to finish, and he had been glad to see the back of it, and in truth had wanted nothing more than to be rid of it but the wizard had insisted. Since he was a regular, Octavius had not felt in a position to decline and he knew the invitation would make Ava happy. “I have been told that this would be a good place to conduct certain business” he shrugged, vaguely. “I have not seen much of the view beyond that on the other side of the windows in this room. Perhaps I should look around”.

“I hope you are right. I want to be able to read her, so as not to upset her. I feel like I’m… walking on eggshells” he admitted reluctantly, having not wanted to admit to anything of the sort, especially to a woman whom he regarded as a sister and did not want to think badly of him. He had made a few mistakes that he had been attempting to make up for and though he and Ava had grown closer despite the set back, he still struggled. He had never been in a relationship and had never fancied himself being involved in one. When his father had died, he had expected the wedding to be called off, but it had not been. “I do not mind, so long as Ava is happy with it. I am very much a man about this particular topic”.

“Women are vicious, worse than men at times. I do not mean you of course, but I shudder at the thought of some of the things I have seen and heard about women, when they get together or wish to put one of them down” he said, unable to hide his slight repulsion. he had never seen Violet act in a catty way, nor Ava or his mother, but he knew of women who were quite capable of being so and prayed to deities he did not believe in that the women in his life were not capable of such behavior. “No, you cannot” he winked, “come, let’s find a proper drink for me and perhaps a better view”.

She took another sip of her drink as they spoke, keeping an eye around the room but not enough to be considered rude. Violet nodded at Octavius’ comment. She had stayed up here a few times before, though rarely alone, and she thought it might be a nice getaway for Richard. Perhaps after the holidays, she thought. “They’ve thought of nearly everything,” she told her friend with a small smile on her face. “The only view that I believe is better is at the dragon preserve.” Though both Phoenix House and the preserve were near the same mountain, one could not get closer to the mountain than to the dragons, she supposed.

Though Violet was pleased that Octavius wanted a better relationship with his fiancée, she had to admit that she was surprised. She had previously though Octavius rather indifferent to Ava though Violet could also acknowledge that she had been rather preoccupied with her own relationship in recent months to the point that she’d ignored some of her loved ones more than she’d have liked. “Eggshells?” she asked with a raised brow. “She does not seem the type to nearly explode on you, though I’ll admit I certainly don’t know her well.” She was certain that the wedding would be lovely, especially as she expected the Notts to spare little expense. “If you wish to be able to read her more, I would suggest spending more time together, for I do not believe there is a better way to learn someone’s moods than that.”

He was correct, of course, in his assessment of women. They could be rather vicious and Violet knew firsthand just how much. She was similarly cutthroat, though had always been better about hiding it, believing that it was easier to slide a knife in one’s back while smiling. Her lips merely thinned lightly at Octavius’ comment, for she found it rather naïve of him to assume that she was unlike them – she was merely better, but she said nothing. Inclining her head, she agreed. “Yes, that sounds nice,” she said as she began to move toward the bar.

[end]

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richieroyce‌:

His lips turned downwards, though not in a negative way. It was a concession of an expression, his shoulders lifting and dropping as if he brushed the words off, and then the corner of his mouth inched up in mirth as if the giddiness could not help itself from bursting from his person. Others, he assumed, would have trouble finding happiness in the dank little shop, and yet Richard felt he was thriving in the dust that danced in the few streaks of sunlight. 

Richard watched intently as a myriad of expressions crossed Octavius’ face. Yes, something had changed. He was no longer confined, caged off at the idea of marrying the Nott daughter. A small spark resided in his eyes, one that certainly had not been lit before Richard’s extended vacation, and while a better man would not have prodded, Richard was a bit like Apollo with a bone when he noticed the difference. 

Stepping closer, he placed his hip on the counter. His body leaned against the encasement, legs extending at an angle, and one brow piqued as his friend went off like some rudimentary firecracker. His eyes traced the tiny webbed cracks that erupted from his friend’s hand as it collided with the glass, and for a moment he waited, allowing the silence to bathe the moment in the confusion he felt.

“I dunno. Is it?” His eyes found Octavius again. Richard thought it was interesting, but perhaps not inconceivable. In fact, it was very possible, he thought, for it seemed to have happened without his friend noticing at all. If anyone knew what a pent up infatuation looked like, it was Richard, though saying so would hardly help his case. “You are a beast, and that does not necessarily carry a negative connotation.”

He thought Octavius of all people understood that. 

“Care to share what’s riding your nerves, or am I supposed to believe this is the welcome back you’ve had prepared for me?”

Ava had royally fucked with his mind, his heart and upon occasion and through fantasy alone, his body. He had been struggling for a while to keep a tight grasp on the man he knew deep down his was; a dark, twisted man... unrelenting, merciless and cold. Perhaps the reason he was losing his grasp on his own reality was because of Ava, or perhaps it was because he had never been that man in the first place and had only been pretending. Wearing the mask so long that he had forgotten that he could take it off.

Neither option sat well with him. 

He ran a had through his hair, frustrated that in the space of a few short moments happy banter with his friend had turned into something deeper, more disturbing to Octavius. “No” he answered, picking up a small silver item from the counter top in front of him with one hand, a rag in the other and started to clean it unnecessarily in order to keep his hands busy. “Try telling that to her, because I’ve had very little luck with that as of late”.

He slammed the item down onto the counter again and looked his friend in the eye. “What kind of welcome back would you like?” he asked, his tone void of all emotion, but he knew his eyes were blazing. “It wasn’t your fault that you were gone, I get that, I swear I do, but you were gone, and when shit happened, you weren’t there” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “You are my best friend, you weren’t here when I needed you and I couldn’t save you either. I failed”.

His hands shook slightly as he placed them onto the counter to steady himself. “As you can probably tell, I’ve not been myself lately”.

& I Miss The City; It’s Been A Minute | r & o-man

[knockturnburke-blog]

dailydoseofem‌:

If there was one thing Emerson could take pride in, it was how great she could look in a fitted suit. While she wasn’t exactly the best at doing her hair, or her makeup, that didn’t mean she didn’t take care when it came to her appearance. She put in just as much effort as any other woman her age- it just so happened that she looked best in a power suit, as opposed to a lacy dress. Dresses left her feeling exposed- the pantsuits she wore offered her comfort and femininity unique to her.

She’d arranged an appointment with her usual tailor at Twilfitt and Tatting a week prior, as she’d begun to grow bored of the suits she’d been wearing to work every day. She needed a few more splashes of colour in her wardrobe, she’d decided, to break through the drudgery of browns and neutral tones that was her office space. 

Emerson stepped up onto the stool she was ushered towards, almost immediately lifting her arms from her sides to allow the tape to measure her; a routine she’d long since grown used to. It was during this that she heard a familiar voice to the side of her, and she almost startled when she turned her head to face the source. 

“Octavius?” Emerson hardly ever ran into anyone she knew during her appointments, here- she was always careful to get fitted during the store’s quieter hours. She didn’t know what the appropriate response was, in this scenario, and so she settled for an awkward smile in his direction. It took her a minute before she realized she was probably expected to say something.

“Fancy, uh, running into you here.”

Though a jolt of surprise passed through him at the sight of Emerson standing casually by his side, propped up on a stool to be measured as he had, he wondered only moments later why he had been surprised at all. Of all the women in his life, those he knew well and those he avoided out of fear of their scathing glares and razor sharp, perfectly manicured talons, Emerson was the least traditional when it came to being a ‘pureblood lady’. If he thought about it long and hard enough, he would not be able to recall a time when she ever wore a dress or giggled like a simpering school girl. Those were just two of the reasons why her presence was tolerable to him.

“Yes, fancy that” he responded, his lips twitching as he turned back to the mirror. “I sure hope it hasn’t ruined your day” he half joked, playing with the cuff of his sleeve and deciding that it was far too tight to his wrist.

Clothes shopping had never been an exercise that he enjoyed, and though he had been fitted for suits and dress robes in the past, he had never gone under his own steam before. His mother’s influence and his fiancee’s apparent sway over him had changed him, from a man who did only what he wanted and what would benefit him, to one that sometimes, occasionally, thought of others before himself. It was a slightly disconcerting thought to have while standing in the middle of Twilfitt and Tatting and as a result, he quickly turned back to Emerson.

“At the risk of sounding like a cliche, do you come here often?”

[knockturnburke-blog]

[ @halfnott ]

The Edge of Love (2008) dir. John Maybury

[knockturnburke-blog]

Location: Twilfitt and Tatting Date: February 1st, 1979 With: @dailydoseofem

With the wedding on a few short months away, Octavius had finally bitten the bullet and booked himself in to be properly fitted for a suit for the big day. Most of the suits he currently own were well worn and often on him around the store and his home, and he knew that Ava, and his mother would be displeased if he rocked up to his wedding in one of them. Aside from that, he actually found himself wanting to make an effort on the day. Ava had poured so much of her time and energy into the entire day that it would have seemed a little insulting of him to not make some sort of effort.

Standing on top of a small stall, he watched as a tape measure move by itself around him and pointed out several fabrics that he would like to see to the sales assistant. The man was humble and polite, and ran around at Octavius’s requests. Octavius watched and cringed every so often as the tape measure wrapped around his legs and arms. Once the measurements had been taken and written down, the man informed Octavius that he would get a suit for him to try and in the fabrics requested to see which he preferred, before they adjusted them to fit. Octavius nodded to the man in return and watched him scurry away as another sales assistant ushered a customer to the stool next to his.

He glanced over at the person beside him, before doing a double take and raising his eyebrow in question at the sight of the all too familiar other customer. “Emerson?”