#cursebreaker leander

[noxtms]

dear cherry ; we are pleased to inform you that your application for BILL WEASLEY has been accepted to 𝐧𝐨𝐱 ! boyd holbrook is now taken. you have twenty four hours to submit your account, or else your role will be reopened !

⧼   boyd holbrook, cis man, he/him   /   soldier, poet, king by jacob cook + and so it begins, self-admonishment heark, all bathed in strawberry lightning  !  center stage, something of a divine right.  “i am, myself, indifferent honest; i could accuse me of such things it were better my mother had not borne me. i am — -”   proud.   (  firstborn, forever limned in that gilded light  /  you are the first, my love: to be held in father’s shaking, unsteady arms, to take tentative steps and catch the edge of your forehead on the coffee table. to receive your letter, expected as it is. to glow something glorious.  oh, he’s a wonderful boy.  and you are, aren’t you  ?  pride and joy, as they put it, your parents who retire that very phrase the minute your mother’s belly swells for the second time, but there’s something about the ego trip that you hang onto, just for a while. set the curve, stay ahead of it, revel in that little pinprick that you confine to just below the candy-cane curve of your right rib. sylvia plath said it best: i took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. i am, i am, i am …   )   revengeful.   (   and you’ve done things you’re not proud of, in the name of the ire that feels like a smoldering bonfire at your very core. there’s punches thrown, and hexes spat, and hate that sits venomous and green at the tip of your tongue. someone threatens to push your brother off his broom, for the outrageous crime of catching the golden snitch a second beforehand  …  shining prefect badge be damned, you’ll go down swinging for the ones you love.   )   ambitious.   (   is this why you leave, darling  ?  it’s quite the distance, london to cairo. your mother says she doesn’t mind the time difference, nor the mileage, but there’s something like an open wound in her tearful gaze and you can’t quite meet it. dirtiest trophy on the shelf: first child to leave home  /  to break your mother’s heart in two, slick - shiny ligaments catching the light as she waves you goodbye. you think about her less than you should, she worries about you with every second breath, your ambition comes at a cost and it’s a few gray hairs at her temple.   )   with more offences at my beck than i have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.   (   you’ve grown cold, darling.  what did not kill me never made me stronger.  it only left ragged scars, something a little jaded in the way your laughter breaks off  /  did you snap like this, before  ?  sunny boy turned charming man with a temperate like spun sugar, nobody would have ever expected this of you. early mornings sat atop the rocks, watching the tide crash in  ;  the spray is brutally fresh and you can practically taste it, the wind slices at exposed flesh. gaze cast out into whitecaps like you might find something you’ve lost amongst the waves, how many times have you been here before  ?  navalgazing cannot change a fate long decided, my dear. dust yourself off, and go home to the hearth that’s cooled now that there’s nobody else to stoke it.   )   “we are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us.”    ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that WILLIAM ‘BILL’ LEANDER WEASLEY? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the THIRTY SEVEN year old pureblood WIZARD is a GRYFFINDOR alumnus who has gone on to be a CURSEBREAKER AT GRINGOTT’S. i’ve heard they can be quite EQUABLE & SCRUPULOUS, but i don’t know… they came off very BREVILOQUENT & MERCURIAL in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?   [   claire, twenty4, aest, she/they   ]