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[taciiturns]

ACCEPTING on KAELA and GRACIE : sex education sentence starters & tiniest details !

[taciiturns]

"i don't know that you should waste your galleons like that. it's fiscally irresponsible." it might sound like hubris to a nearby ear, but it is anything but that. she just knows her father and how his mind works. i'm thankful to my family, she thinks. my daughter kaela, who if things went differently a few short months ago, wouldn't be here. it would tear at the heart strings, despite how curated his story is. "me, personally?" her voice drops to hushed tone, "would be more interested in betting on how long into his speech he makes a promise of things being under control."

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: level eight, the atrium. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed to mikaela karkaroff ( @taciiturns )

a small flute of champagne is dwarfed by pax's hand as he observes the minister from the drinks table, a look of smugness almost forcefully placed upon his features as he watches the older karkaroff schmooze and act the minister the wixen world waited for. he'd laugh if he weren't surrounded by those blinded by his act. "i'll bet you 5 galleons he boasts about you during his speech, kaela," playfully elbowing the younger karkaroff, pax smirks.

[taciiturns]

she's not the hopeful type, but for the few moments of waiting she certainly comes close. gray hues study his features and for once in a long while there isn't concern etched into them. a win. she'd gotten so few of them lately. "you tell me," she quips, passing through the now wide open space in front of her. "if i recall right . . . you're wearing the cologne i got you . . . two christmases ago?" one of the handful she'd forced upon him during all of their years of familiarity. she moves through the entry hallway with an ease and confidence that one might never see from her in the house that bares her surname. after all, there was a time where this was destined to be their home. she knew where the glasses were, already, for the champagne they were due to consume. where arturo's keys always ended up if he didn't toss them onto the dish that lives on the center island. which corner of the couch was theseus' favorite to curl up in. she gives pause before pressing further - "that being said, i hope so."

maybe it was chance that theseus was staying with her dad, tonight, and he had tomorrow off. maybe he'd just decided on a whim to get his place in order, a swish of a hand here & a bit of elbow grease, there, all to be able to say that for the first time in a while, his house was in an acceptable condition for guests to visit. he'd bought a bag of ice for the freezer / lit one of those ridiculously named yankee candles, in the living room / changed his bed, for good measure. maybe he'd been expecting it, all along. arturo can't quite bring himself to admit it, not even to himself, but maybe he'd been hoping. maybe that was the point. there was 'being nice' and 'being romantic', and the difference lay in that grey area between whether he was being a good friend because they were amicable exes or whether he was being a good friend because they were amicable exes. he wasn't fully sure which it was, but when the moment comes to answer the door, he isn't slow to do it because he's busy elsewhere - it's cause he got stuck at the mirror in the hallway, making sure he looked put together. "some guy, huh ?" bemused and playing it cool, the fact that he pushes himself close to the wall and opens the door that much wider for her to pass says it all, "do you think he had that in mind ?"

[taciiturns]

when: june 1st, approx. 11:00pm where: arturo's home ! who: @iustitiias

cautionary tale: you can light the match and throw it at something you love, convince yourself it is for everyone's own good, but what do you do when that fire is done burning and nothing has turned to ash? you end up on their doorstep, apparently. perhaps knowing better, but ignoring that thought all together. lit only by the porch light stands kaela - in her arms is the gift bag received earlier that day. when the front door finally breaks open, she smiles ( a far cry from how she was the last time she found herself in this same spot ), reaching for the bottle within her bag. "some guy bought me some birthday gifts and i'm in the spirit of sharing, if you'll have me."

[taciiturns]

if life is a spectrum of emotions, kaela is not sure she's ever felt grief. maybe for an old version of herself, or for an unfortunate circumstance, but never prompted by another. kaela didn't know lucius well - didn't care to. there were enough men with big personalities and questionable morals that she never bothered to welcome another. . . but the same could not be said about his wife. there's a certain fondness kaela holds for narcissa that she can't quite explain and a twisting feeling in her chest as she watches her float through a home that surely feels emptier, now, to her than it did a few days ago. even despite all of the mourners.

kaela mentally kicks herself for not catching the glass of one of the visitors earlier. she fails to intervene before words are exchanged - hand lightly landing on the backside of the culprit. narcissa's smile coupled with her own cautionary glance to go literally anywhere else, coaster in tow, was luckily sign enough to remove themselves from the situation. "i can find a replacement side table for you if the damage is done. just say the word." lips press together to offer the closest thing to a sympathic smile that one kaela karkaroff is capable of mustering up. "anton. . ." it was her idea, but she'll give him the credit. "anton is having someone drop by with some meals from my favorite restaurant. hopefully we share more than just similar taste in furniture."

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  malfoy manor, wiltshire  !

HER HUSBAND IS DEAD. when narcissa gives herself those few & far between moments to try and digest this unacceptable truth, the fathomless chasm that threatens to swallow her whole is so uniquely terrifying that she immediately steers herself towards something she can control. kingsley tells her, 'he didn't suffer,' his voice wavering on the lie, and she clicks her fingers for an elf. lucius is gone, but that's no reason for bad manners ; he should have a glass from that expensive bottle in the study, he looks as if he needs it. a mediwix informs her, 'we can have him transferred by saturday,' her eyes trained upon the sickly tile, and she pulls out her cheque book. what's left of him lies in the depths of st mungo's, and she won't stand for it ; they'll have him moved to their home by sundown, or she'll pull their very generous funding. draco remarks dryly, 'it's not as if it's wrong', the prophet lying between them at the dining room table, and the force with which she hits the surface sends her glass flying. he watched it happen, she knows, and grief makes monsters of them all, but that's no excuse to speak ill ; she'll send an owl, she'll send a thousand, they'll pull the rest of the issues from newspaper stands today or she'll give them hell to pay.

HER HUSBAND IS DEAD. when narcissa gives herself those few & far between moments to try and digest this unacceptable truth, she's startled at how little she really feels. it's meant to hurt. she figured it would, but then, she also hadn't - even when they were farthest apart, she doesn't think she'd ever imagined a reality in which they were actually separated by a lungful of breath & a steadily beating heart. she isn't even remotely prepared to confront it, now, so it's little wonder that she keeps herself so caught up in these meaningless moments, so as to avoid slowing down. she is, as ever, a perfect host. moving through the crowded room of faceless wix, she's unforgiving when she spots even the most miniscule of issues. "if you're going to set your glass down on my antique mahoghany, i'd appreciate it if you'd use a coaster," she tells them through a venemous sort of smile, not waiting for them to respond before she has already given her wand a wave and conjured one, "i expect better of guests in my home. i'm sure you understand."

[taciiturns]

ACCEPTING : thematic headcanons & magicians sentence starters !

[taciiturns]

" i think you know exactly what i’ve been up to, kaela. " said ezekiel ! @hoggleswart

if looks could kill zeke would likely be a dead man ( and she is sure he'd probably have been dead long before she even came along ). gray hues turn to daggers at his response to her pushing a question. "that's probably true," she agrees. here's the thing with zeke - if not for. . . well, the everything of it all, she probably wouldn't have such strong feelings about his existence. but alas, the two are sums of their situations. "between licking my fathers boots and canoodling with my best friend. . . i'm not sure how you'd have time for much else."

[taciiturns]

"tough day?" kaela pokes the bear - this likely won't help in paxton's outright show of misery, but she has never been one to hold back even for favored company and even on her worst of days. what a juxtaposition they are - as he leans back to sink further into his chair she sits up, eyes alert as she scans the bar for a waitress to take their order. "beer or strong? those two things aren't synonymous." quick glance catches his before remembering his plea just a moment ago - no decisions. she orders two whiskeys over ice and it's not long before they're placed in front of them. "so, go on. what plagues you?"

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩��: ‘the  choice  is  yours .’ 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: the leaky cauldron, interior !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for mikaela karkaroff ( @taciiturns )

"i am done making decisions today, karkaroff." pressing closed fists into his eyes, he attempts to rub away the exhaustion present, however, when hands move away to lay flat against the table his bags are all that more accentuated. leaning back into the torn, plush of the chair, paxton rolls his head back and closes his eyes. an attempt to shut out the world for a moment. "i just want to go home and hide for a little while. from everything." a pause and he looks at the witch through a peeking eye, "i'll have a beer, anything as long as it's strong."

[taciiturns]

"and that's the last time i'll ask that." mikaela is still quick to quip despite the exhaustion that runs through her - it goes so far as to tempt her to slip into the seat beside pansy, even if it's just for a few moments. this is the last place she'd like to be ( the hospital, not with pansy ) and it's not fair that she's been sent but it's better than her other option. however, she's hardly equipped to console herself through her own series of events, let alone take on everyone elses, but she will. hand will go over another strangers as she nods along, offering her sympathies and leaving behind get well bouquets. "you look tired, is all. everyone here does does." it is, however, off putting to see pansy of all people so. . . out of wack. her current appearance is a far cry from what she's used to ( pristine, put together ) - she looks human, she guesses. "you are. that's true. . . " there's a brief nod of agreement. "you're a good friend. waiting out the night to see him." friend, even in such a circumstance, is an intentional choice on kaela's part. "i'm . . . also lucky."

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃 : oh, jesus, are you alright ? 𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 : mikaela karkaroff / @taciiturns ! 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 : st mungo's ( hallways / waiting room ) !

"i must really look like shit for you to care," and honestly, whether kaela is aware of the good she does or not in that moment, this realisation is for the best. it spurs pansy into action in a way nothing else has ; forcing her to stretch out stiff limbs and sit up straighter despite the protesting of her spine, to run a shaking hand through her birds nest hair and rub the sleep from her eyes, smudging the mascara lines on her cheeks all the more. her clothes aren't just wrinkled but dirty from where she hit the ground and everything that came after. she does look awful. self diagnosed. she wasn't admitted as a patient, after everything, and she hadn't wanted to go home, so it's been a very long night of waiting for the clock to finally hit visiting hours. she must've dozed off - not an easy task in the plastic chair she'd settled into once she'd lost her third receptionist fight - for so much more time to have passed than she realised. a glance at her watch tells her they're a half hour away, and mikaela's presence says that the garnering of public favor is already in full swing. "i'm fine. i'm lucky," it's the first time she's ever been able to say that, and pansy swallows hard around the lump that forms in her throat before she puts voice to the truth for the first time and tells her unlikely friend, "theo saved my life. he's okay. he wasn't bitten or anything, but they admitted him. i've been waiting to see him. are you...?"

[taciiturns]

ACCEPTING: headcanons i’d like to recieve & love, rosie sentence starters !

[taciiturns]

this is exactly why nikolai steers clear of others - most especially mikaela - in the days surrounding the full moon. each word is another jab at the open wound of a headache raging inside his skull and though he started it ( this being a childish proclamation more fitting of schoolyards and playgrounds but true enough, at the heart of it ), he doesn't have it in him to keep it going. his patience wears thin where it has only just started to form and with a sidelong look filled with mostly uncharacteristic venom, niko steps around her and starts to walk away.

he intends to ignore her, really. process started. set in motion with one foot in front of the other and an initial refusal to answer the question she levels at his back, the riddle that she doesn't know is a riddle to him for him to deal with without a glass of something stronger than coffee in hand and a few hours of mindless, blissful silence behind him. it's what she says after that, which gives him pause. so this is why she arrived so frazzled and frenetic ; this is the piece of the morning's puzzle he was missing, laid bare with mikaela's trademark simplicity. "i came here after the game. he told me to." he stops in his tracks and turns, slowly, to look at her. really look at her, this time. not just the lack of togetherness so unlike her, but the frantic energy that fuels her. he understands something of the breach of trust she's feeling, right now. he felt it, too - back at the derby and immediately after when two plus two didn't come to four and there was nobody around to listen. he doesn't much care about all of that, isn't the person to come to, now, if she's in need of comfort, but there IS something that nikolai cares about. eyes dark, he works his jaw, and when he asks, "what did he do?" it sounds a lot closer to an unspoken threat than a question.

there is no way to fix this, is there? there is no undoing what has been done once the puzzle pieces slowly start to slot together. there was the mikaela that existed hours ago and the mikaela that exists now, splintered by the realization of being put in harms way to move a narrative by the very person she gives and gives and gives to with no benefit. when is it her turn ? when is it over ? is no thing - or no person sacred ? how strange it is to have been made to feel so small and yet at the same time every wave of emotion feels far too big for your body to handle. she releases her hands from the shaky fists they've balled themselves into for what feels like the millionth time, briefly exposing where her nails have left cuts along her palms to run fingers through her hair. hot tears threaten to fall upon blotchy cheeks - a far cry from the put together person she prides herself in being.

she can see it in the way her brother stiffens. in the way his eyes, lifeless moments ago suddenly have something behind them. he's connecting some of the dots that kaela is so horribly articulating. "fenrir greyback is dead. he killed him," she chokes out, and that hangs in the air for a few moments. "he was right there." kaela's hand flies in front of her as though to gesture some vague sort of distance that separated the two. "i - i had a kid in my arms and someone stupefied arturo and i was stuck there. i couldn't - i wouldn't leave." the picture she paints is not great, at best, but she's clear with what she says next. "then of course he saves the day. clearly . . . clearly i was exactly where he needed me to be. he had to know it would happen - he told me so right then."

[taciiturns]

kaela has always done well knowing her place. before she was ministers daughter she was simply antonins daughter and throughout it all her brothers keeper - history has shown these titles are often to her detriment and yet she still carries them nonetheless. there's ringing in her ears that picks up in volume, sure to be a splitting headache soon and a sharp "go fuck yourself," is all she's able to retort, initially. maybe it's not FAIR to him, but she's not able to empathize with the way niko's body aches or the way it might be yearning for a bed that isn't made of stone when her mind is connecting the dots of her own night.

on one part she is certain she understands what her brother is implying and yet there is a corner of her conscious that wants to deny the underlying story here. it's much easier to do that than acknowledge a newfound low in the karkaroff family dynamic. she presses onwards, anyways - "no," she snaps. "when did you get here?" everything in her is begging for her to take a moment to process. to take a breath, even if just for a second. but heightened emotions don't allow, nor does the relationship she has with her brother - neither of them really 'reel it in' when it comes to the other. pressing salt into each others wounds is among the things they do best, after all. "you're fucking clueless, aren't you? twenty something people are dead because werewolves attacked the campgrounds. after the game he told me to find YOU and to come back here."

the days before a full moon were bad - that gradual drain on his strength that came just as surely as the itch in his bones and the well known knowledge that come the night they would break and reform in a new, horrifying image. nikolai understood pain. he took it like his mother and he dealt it, same as his father before him, but there was no way of getting used to the curse. he supposed that was part of why it was considered one. the morning after the full moon, however, was always the worst. his skin reddened raw, an ache lodged so deep in his body that it seemed unlikely to ever leave, the rapid relearning of living in a form that, despite housing everything he was for a majority of the month, could never actually be a home. that, he posited, was the other side of the curse.

nikolai woke where he had transformed, deep in the confines - the safety, his father had called it - of the rented, stateley manor. he was slow to rouse, slower still to dress himself in wrinkled clothes, wincing in the privacy of the darkened basement as they came into contact with his pained, fresh skin. he took each step with the care of a man three times his age, opening wide the door to his temporary cell and coming face to face with mikaela. her accusatory tone - and the volume at which she uses it - is a knife through the side of his head. "you look like shit," is rather rich, coming from him, but this is the nature of their dynamic. she gives just as good as she takes. he stretches out to his full height and his spine cracks, a satisfying sound - it's what he needs after a night spent curled on dusty stone. he only answers the question because she looks so fucking shellshocked. "basement," he shrugs, takes a stab at a dry ( and yet, truthful ) joke, "there were only two bedrooms."

[taciiturns]

location: antonins rented home nearby the burren feat. @monstrovs

it's not long after sunrise that kaela finally makes her way to antons rented home. "go, rest." he told her, certainly not because of the exhaustion so deeply seeped into her features. it's likely because of the way her breath after hours was still jagged or the way that once marco was taken from her arms to safety her still shaky hands would clench and unclench over and over. "i told you" loops in her ears with no explanation to remedy her feelings. there was a second war to be wagered between daughter and father and anton was eager to not have hero facade cracked so quickly, so dismissal was best.

door closes and she stands in the welcomed silence for a few long moments, at least, until the sound of old wood creaking beneath the weight of someone coming up the stairs interrupts. someone in question emerges and it's niko. niko, the only reason she was at the camp grounds as late as she was. with her fathers insistence to find him. he is there, in front of her, looking just as confused at her appearance. no. her head shakes back and forth, pit forming in her stomach before she even gives voice to her confusion. "where ... where were you?" it sounds like a pointed question ( one she fears she knows the answer to ) and she is sure he will interpret it as such considering he looks to be just as rough as she does, if not worse.

[taciiturns]

ACCEPTING : in character character development questions & now you see me sentence starters !

[taciiturns]

niko's choice to camp when one takes into account that he has endless karkaroff money that he could play with, instead, baffles kaela. perhaps that seeps into her tone, making her seem a bit judgier than usual and unfortunately that also means viktor, the innocent bystander doing more to get his sleeping arrangements set up than her brother, gets the brunt of it. "was this my brothers idea or yours?" there's a frown on her face as she searches the tent for a fault - not because she's so concerned about his chosen living quarters, but due to not being able to warm up to the idea all together. "if it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me." kaela plops herself down on one of the lawn blankets brought with ease, retrieving a golden flask from her coat pocket. "drink?"

* 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘: closed starter for @taciiturns ! * 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: pre - game / the camping grounds !

call him old fashioned but this wasn't really what he had in mind when he was invited to a charity match. granted, this was a few hours before the match; something he'd rarely had the chance to witness from the non-player side lately; so maybe this WAS the norm and he just didn't know about it. still, something tells him that having someone judging your every move as you try to set up your tent is NOT really part of the british quidditch customs but he could be wrong. "uh..." he lets out a soft sigh, as he finally manages to successfully attach the poles into their corresponding places. "it is done, i think..." his eyes flash to kaela, already expecting a comment. "good enough?"

[taciiturns]

"antonin -" there is something to be hated about full names in hushed tones - thirty something years politicking under the wing of anton karkaroff has taught her that much. that, and to never bristle with a camera nearby. kaela is pointy by nature - from her gaze to her features all the way down to her personality but she does well, somehow, to mostly soften those things when the time is right. "niko is hard to pin down on a good day, which you know," she stares ( eyes ever so narrowed ) at her father for a long moment as if to really unpack this offer of hospitality - she knows the game of say one thing, mean another well ( or, at base level, he's telling his daughter not to be an idiot, which is a life lesson of his she never really gets to forget ). "we're just going to do a couple loops of the camp grounds - i'd imagine not long enough to give you any lasting worry lines." a hint of a smile is offered - to onlookers, this conversation is light. "do i have to ask in my old age if that's alright?"

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  the ministers box  ! 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶  :  @taciiturns / mikaela karkaroff​  !

"mikaela-" he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening on her arm the moment that it becomes clear that she moves with the intent of leaving. he lets eulalia step away from him, other arm unwrapped from her waist, but in the same motion gives the universal gesture for a second, please to the sea of photographers that descended after the snitch was caught in hand - one finger held up high to see, an apologetic sort of smile twisting at his features. a camera flash betrays one of the slower to react, the picture snapped sure to appear in tomorrow's broadsheet, but antonin ignores this in favor of pivoting them both away from the prying eyes of those media vultures and pulling her fully aside. "we have a private home booked near dublin for the night. there's room enough for you and your brother, if you can find him," his gaze, steady to now, flickers towards her waiting guests, "i would like not to see you and your... new friends faces in the tabloids, tomorrow morning. it would be a pity to see all the good work we've done here, today, undone with a scandal."

[taciiturns]

"now why would i be mad at you, luca?" it's posed like a question that is meant to reassure luca, but it is nothing more than a trap. caught between mingling with wixen that were only made tolerable by her brothers generous donation ( read : drugs she paid for, but he procured ), but a switch is flipped and her smile fades and dilated eyes offer a pointed glance to her best friend. truth be told she wasn't going to touch the topic of luca's date with a ten foot pole, waving a white flag as she's already done enough this evening, but now luca is there and kaela's mean streak is being given the opportunity to push onwards. it's not like her to pick such little hills to die upon - nor is it fair. maybe tomorrow she'll come to see that many of her actions weren't, but in this moment she's selfishly aware of how unfair life is to her more than anything else. "hm?"

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  malfoy manor, wiltshire  ! 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶  :  @taciiturns  !

it's much too childish to walk right up to kaela and ask, feeling mildly unwell, are you mad at me? - especially when she suspects the answer might be yes, or, if she hasn't seen her date, that it'll BECOME a resounding yes once she does. luca picks at her fake nails and works herself into knots trying to decide how best to break the evening's ice, wondering if it's best to just wait until tomorrow when it'll just be a memory. there's nothing inherently wrong with it, after all. they're just friends. friends that know each other carnally, but... well, mikaela's familiar with that concept, so luca's sure she'll at least get that. and he's her landlord. and something her best friends godfather. that part will be the sticker, she knows, and she's pretty positive she SHOULD just let it play out and wait until the next day, but when there's just so much good gossip surrounding them that she's finally in a position of indulging, luca just can't resist the pull into her best friends orbit. and also, unfortunately, the sick and twisted instinct of a simple, "are you mad at me?"