dedgulung "vexed italicizing trouble magnet" black (regulus) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-10-11 16:12:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ! [1979-10] october, ! npc, regulus black |
RP Log: Regulus & Walburga
who → Regulus Black & Walburga Black (NPC'd by Chel).
what → Reggie and Mama Black have a Srs Bizniz Discussion about Srs Bizniz Duties.
when → Friday, 10 October 1979; 8:47pm. BACKDATED (omg I fail).
where → 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England.
warnings → None.
status → Complete.
A summons from his mother was rarely if ever a good thing -- of this, Regulus Black knew quite well. It was no secret, and there was no pretension within the house that either of them were of a particularly warm nature. Furthermore, it was clearly not a conversation to be breached at the supper table, as he had been called quite specifically to her office rather than waiting the hour or so when they would, by default, see each other. No, this quite likely meant doom because there were only so many subjects that the mother and son pair ever discussed, most of which were connected to either Regulus's successes or Regulus's failures. While he had not been particularly incompetent lately, he had done nothing exceptionally noteworthy, either, and the one sole failure that he had managed in the growing expense of time following July... ...made him quite suddenly want to vomit. A twinge of panic shot through him, and he took a deep breath as he stood outside of the thick wooden door -- the only thing separating him and whatever it was she wanted to talk about. The idea that she could have somehow found out about Sirius, whether it was the event of speaking to him in July (as she did not even know about that) or whether it be the fact that Sirius had found out he was a Death Eater and had thus reopened the occasional communication...both of them spelt certain trouble, and it took every ounce of determination he could muster to reach forth, rapping on the door three times in swift succession. Walburga, for all of her great sermonising and her ability to rage at her son, was also rather blind when it came to that which happened beyond her own house (so Regulus's fears were generally unfounded - to that extent). Sitting behind her desk, she was the picture of Pureblood strength. With every hair in place and a delicate pair of spectacles perched on the edge of her nose as she ran through a cost ledger, a simple wave of her wand opened the door to permit her son's entrance into her haven. As he entered, she carefully removed her spectacles and cast a long, grey gaze over Regulus. She cleared her throat and motioned with the tip of her quill toward a well-worn chair, suggesting with a cant of her chin that he take a seat. Steeling himself mentally for whatever was to come, Regulus walked across the room, eyes falling to the chair for only a moment before he settled himself in it. She did not look angry. She did not look disappointed. She was not shouting. Each of those were good signs, he imagined, though he could not bring himself to trust that he ought to let down his guard. He would give nothing away until he was directly asked. That was typically safe, and there was no reason to risk accidentally drawing attention to something in addition to whatever she had called him for if she was not already aware of it. "You wished to speak to me, Mother?" His words were quiet and even, his back perfectly erect in his seat. Not presumptuous or demanding -- his mother deserved the utmost politeness, and he wished for her to be in a mood most fortunate for him if there was something she wished to say to him. "I did," she said in tones equally as even, regarding her Making an effort not to squirm – heirs did not squirm -- Regulus kept his hand folded stiffly in his lap to keep from pulling at his sleeve, as that was a nervous tic he had learned to try to avoid in the presence of his mother. The control took conscious thought, and he could not tell where she was going with such a statement. Of course he was growing up; he was eighteen years old, an adult, but perhaps this was yet another reminder of how important it was to display himself well in public. He didn't think he had failed too terribly at putting on a positive and inconspicuous image as of late, but it did not seem to be going in the direction of Sirius or any of his past indiscretions related to Sirius. There was a subtle easing of tension in his shoulders. "Yes -- I am making my greatest efforts to further ennoble our family as I do so. I wish only to make you proud," he responded, watching her and trying to read her expressions, to find any clues or cues to feed off of. And a fine brow arched in ... (dare, could it be?) amused. "You make me proud, Regulus, when you do not besmirch and befoul your family's reputation by communicating with the filth of the streets." A rather pregnant pause. "And you have done well, as of late. You do neglect, however, another duty just as central to the furthering of our way of life as your role in the Dark Lord's ranks. " Attempting to control any threat of a visible flinch, Regulus slightly diverted his eyes as panic flared shortly in his stomach. He was not left long to his fear, however – and with her following words, the nervousness of being found out was replaced with a feeling far more perplexed. His duties to the Dark Lord had been the sole center of his thoughts for the duration of the past year (interrupted only briefly by tragedies, and even such tragedies were tinged if not submerged in their connections with the Dark Lord) – but as his mind swiftly surveyed all of the things he was intended to do with his life as a pureblood Black male heir, he did not need to run far through the list before a look of dawning realisation was passing across his face. Marriage. Heirs. Heirs were important for creating more heirs, who would then in turn create more heirs, who would then in turn create more in a perpetuating cycle. He had not been particularly…proactive in his quest to secure a wife, but was he meant to be? He supposed he was. Had she chosen someone? Or was Aunt Druella or Cissa choosing someone? He knew his own parents had not chosen each other, and Marius and Astra had not chosen... "Yes…I suppose I have," Regulus responded in what he hoped was even but felt rather thrown off balance to his own ears. "Then," was whip-crack sharp, "what are you going to do about it?" Momentary silence. ...Him? What was he going to do about it? He supposed her question cleared any confusion as to whether they were planning to choose a wife for him -- though that method, with Aunt Druella, had nearly set him with Astra Avery, who, while a charming young woman, had not functioned as well in his mind as he might have expected. Even so, the idea of marriage was not an idea he was particularly comfortable with, despite any and all preaching of the importance of furthering one's lines...or at least the idea of marrying soon was one he had always opted to ignore rather than process in his mind, and being forced to initiate such a thing himself rather threw off his ignoring method. "...Acquire a wife?" A sly look crossed her face as she placed her elbows on the desk and leant closer to him. "You've been courting the attention of Julianne Wilkes." Burying the flare of sheepish embarrassment -- Regulus did not much wish to discuss girls with his mother, but he supposed it was, at the very least, fortunate that he had not needed to bring up the subject himself. Spending time with Julianne had not been thought of in the specific courting sense within his own mind, as doing so and growing attached to a particular person before anything was certain went rather against his idea that one must be prepared to marry whoever is most convenient for both families involved. Even so, he could not help the uncontrollable recall of that terrible feeling he had suffered when she had mentioned the company of William Flint, followed by the suggestion by Barty...followed then by the (rather forceful) nuding of his mother. At least he did not hear disapproval in her voice... "That is correct." "Correct?" she breathed, wondering for a moment if her son was as he looked (hardly male at all) but she shook her head vigourously and gave Regulus a look of barely restrained tolerance. "Darling, let me suggest in the strongest terms that a match with Julianne Wilkes would be ... " she paused, sucking in a lungful of air, "proper for a young man of your age and birth. Do I need to make it a direct order?" Resisting another wince, Regulus shook his head, feeling the embarrassment creeping up rather uncomfortably. He was not stupid. He did not need a direct order...Having little idea what the right answer was served to be a very uncomfortable situation -- he was incapable of seeing into her mind, and they did not discuss such a subject until now -- but thoughts of that nature were clipped away, too petulant to dare say out loud. Too petulant to think, really, and he was grateful for the safety of his mind, though he felt rather like she might be able to read minds, after all. Such a perspective would explain why she expected him- "No, Mother. I was simply uncertain of the desired time-frame and whether you had a preference in mind. If you have no objection to Julianne, then she is my preference." Discomfort squirmed in his stomach, not only sharing a private thought out loud, but to his mother -- though he wasn't certain how he could possibly get married without ever making remotely public who he had a preference for, but such logic was not the point, and he did not like saying it, even if he did not wish for Julianne to be having tea with William Flint, who was obviously not a good match for her at all... But if his mother wished to hear specifics and confirmations, he would oblige. "Then," she said evenly, "do your duty." "Yes, Mother." His voice was quiet, his manner somewhat hesitant and he debated whether that was a dismissal or simply the closing of the subject. He knew to leave without permission would be a misstep, but he could never quite tell what he was meant to assume and what he was meant to ask -- as he could see rather clearly from this conversation as a whole, but he supposed, putting it into perspective, that at least it had not ended in disownment or shouting, which would have been far more likely had his original assumption been true. The sheepishness had not quite faded from his face (...marriage to Julianne), but it was a feeling mixed somewhere between pleased and ill...but a good sort of ill, he thought, in a strange and confusing sort of way... And he wasn't sure...exactly what he was supposed to do (ask her father -- but how did one prepare to do so?), but he did not dare ask his mother. He would look it up, perhaps... When Regulus, after a moment's vacillation, asked his mother if there were any further subjects she wished to discuss and found no such subjects to be mentioned, he was dismissed to return to his room. He could not determine precisely what it was he felt, though he knew for certain that he did not feel as apathetic as he had always expected he would feel. He did not feel the lack of preference that he had attempted to foster in himself throughout his adolescence thus far, but having such realisation strike him repeatedly throughout the same week left his mind reeling. And he would be flying with Julianne (and Barty) tomorrow, and while he always wished to see her, it was mildly embarrassing, knowing that he would soon ask her father for her hand. The temptation to push away the discomfort of feeling off of his footing was an alluring one, but he supposed to putting it off was the reason for this conversation with his mother in the first place. Not thinking about it was not going to provide and epiphany... But he could not stand forever in his mother's office, trapped in limbo and stuck in the state of mental disequilibrium as his thoughts and emotions fought themselves, fought each other, spiked and receded at their own will in a fashion far less organised than he would have preferred. Politely excusing himself, Regulus slipped out the door and into the hall. He was an adult, and he would figure this out, just as he figured everything out. Marriage was a natural and predicted course of action, and the sudden responsibility and control being thrust upon him was not reason to panic. No need to panic. |