angelus (rosier) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-03-20 15:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | angelus rosier, peony parkinson |
WHO: Angelus Rosier & Peony Parkinson.
WHAT: Lamenting what the world has come to.
WHEN: Backdated to the night after Keaton was murdered. The 15th? I think!
WHERE: Angelus’ flat.
WARNINGS: Talk about said murder.
“It’s shit,” Angelus settled on eventually, after a decent attempt at trying to sugar coat it. He found that he just couldn’t, not in the wake of the horrifying double-murder that included Keaton Flitney, one of the most famous and prodigious Quidditch players in recent times. It seemed so horribly senseless and backwards from anything the Death Eaters claimed to represent. As far as Angelus knew, anyway. Instead of elaborating further, Angelus leaned back further into the couch, admitting some defeat, and draped an arm across the shoulders of his girlfriend to pull her closer. “Good week, definitely,” he said, voice laden with obvious sarcasm. Peony settled in against Angelus’s side with a soft sigh. “What were they trying to prove exactly?” she pondered. “I don’t recall him ever being outspoken—especially in comparison to some—and he is a famed international player. This will appear most poorly in the international community,” she added, the reprimand directed to some invisible person in the room who thought that Death Eater violence was all well and good. Contrary to the young couple on the sofa. At some level Angelus absolutely deserved the rebuke even if Peony wasn’t directing it at him. There was enough he’d laughed at or went with earlier on, but as things steadily got worse he was growing more exasperated with it. Flitney hadn’t deserved it, at least. “That they could, I suppose.” What other reason was there? “I doubt the international community has been impressed for a month or two at least, I’d figure.” “So much for Mama’s back up plan for Pansy to marry an American.” A dry smile. “We’ll all be international pariahs at this rate. What was it even?” she added suddenly. “They must have suspected him of being an Order member. That’s the only thing that makes any sense.” Despite his family connections, Peony didn’t expect Angelus to have an actual answer to this. It was just speculation. Angelus snorted at the remark. “You never know, the Americans might still be interested.” Silly Americans. “That,” Angelus commented, thinking about it a bit more with a little pause before continuing, “or something in his charities wasn’t right. We know a lot of them supported everyone back before the Ministry change.” Still, Angelus had no concrete answers, only useless suppositions. “There were way more obvious people to make examples of.” “Exactly. Death is so… final.” Peony wrinkled her nose. “So syphoning money to Muggleborns, perhaps? You would think that would be more a sentence in Azkaban type of thing.” It was all very well to espouse purism, but increasingly it was coming to seem that those in charge were forgetting that there should still be a society left to rule over at this rate. “I suppose so?” Angelus shook his head. “To which ones would that be, though? The ones that are out of touch because they’re on the run? The others he couldn’t have been.” Flitney couldn’t have handed a sack of galleons to a Muggleborn in Diagon, and the ones in Azkaban were even further out of reach. “It is final, and he’s precisely the type of cultural icon that they should have liked.” And kept alive, naturally. A bitter chuckle at that. “Yes. He couldn’t have exactly strode down Diagon handing out food packages to them all.” The only people who had been able to get near the Wandless were the Order, and that was only after making quite the scene. “Spinnet would have made far more sense to kill off. Someone like him could have possibly been rehabilitated, or at least scared into not doing anything further?” “I also feel like it’s not something that begins and ends with him, anyway, if any of this makes sense.” Another heavy sigh. “Maybe we’re putting too much thought into this. But yeah, scare him, geez, don’t blow him to pieces for like a first offense here.” Some of the others, like Spinnet, had their chances and continued to keep pushing things and there was only so people would take, sympathetic to that or not before they stopped caring. “But hey. Here we are, right?” It was bitter sounding, not at all like the high life the two purebloods probably imagined or the conversations they wished to be having eight months into their new society. “And here we are,” Peony echoed. Meanwhile what was considered seditious was being expanded further and further—it would take very little these days. “There was that Quidditch match too,” she recalled. “What was the point of scaring everyone like that? Attack the players if they’re mouthing off, not the spectators who have nothing to do with.” Rolling his eyes heavily, Angelus grunted in annoyance. “Yeah, that was really stupid. I get that they felt they had a problem given some of them, sure, but ruining everything for everyone is dumb.” And unfair! Because things shouldn’t have affected Angelus as much as the others, right? He was a Rosier and thus he shouldn’t have lost his passion. But that wasn’t how the Death Eaters were operating. Everyone was getting into problems whether they should be or shouldn’t be. “I’d say I hope it doesn’t get worse, but it will.” “Quidditch is an important and integral magical tradition. I had thought that we were meant to be preserving such things.” An angry huff. “And your show was an institution, Angelus—an institution! How dare they?” Then, shocked into a brief silence at her outburst (how dare she, with everything as it is), “I’m sorry. But I was under the impression that things were meant to be better.” And who, she wondered, exactly for? People like Dante, apparently, but he would have likely been better off without the shadow the Dark Lord was casting over his life. People like her and Angelus, eventually. And yet— And yet here they were. Was this even beneficial to Dante’s and Violet’s future child? Angelus wasn’t so sure anymore. Certainly the war raging wasn’t, but even if the vigilantes all disappeared Angelus had doubts about it these days. And that wasn’t a good place to be. He fumbled for Peony’s hand, and in a moment of tenderness reserved for a very select few, laced his fingers through hers. “It’s fine. Not really a big deal in the end. The show that is. As for us, we’ll manage, yeah?” Peony gave his hand a tight squeeze back. “We will,” she agreed, and there was an edge to her voice more in line with her younger sister than herself. “We are going to get through this. And if it becomes too hard? Well then, we’ll find a way out of it.” Angelus nodded, and then slipped away from the serious behavior, becoming much more like his everyday self: “I like it when you’re feisty.” “I know that you do.” She leaned in to playfully tap his chest, then all talk was forgotten. |