Ursula Flint will just read a book instead. (uninterested) wrote in caged, @ 2013-08-27 18:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 97-08, [ narrative ], ursula flint |
WHO: Ursula and Marcus Flint.
WHEN: August 27. Afternoon.
WHERE: Flint manor.
SUMMARY: Siblings have a quarrel that goes deeper than it seems.
RATING: PG for curses.
STATUS: Complete log.
This is in order to prevent magic stealers from getting medical care intended to proper witches and wizards... The radio switched off right in the middle of the latest announcement about what the Wizarding world was denying Muggleborns now, and instantaneously, one Ursula Flint jerked her head around to glare at the shadow that had entered the room, his wand having been casually pointed toward the wireless. "I was listening to that," came her accusation, full of blundering hurt that she wished had come out something more like dry irritation. Marcus shrugged one shoulder up and down and promptly collapsed onto the couch across from her, splayed out across its cushions and draping one arm over his eyes as if to block out the light in the room. "I was listening to that," she repeated testily, almond-eyed glare fixated with unholy irritation the direction of her brother. He raised the arm covering his eyes and squinted at her, giving the impression of a particularly dim ogre when his teeth jutted out. "What do you care? Doesn't apply to you." She refrained from rolling her eyes, but only just, then replied in a bitingly delicate tone as her hands gestured along with the words, "See, sometimes people want to know information about the world around them - not just the selfish bits." Dropping her hands and the facade, she went on blisteringly, "They said they're only taking those who've proven their blood status at Mungos now." "Well, yeah," came Marcus' response as he settled his arm back over his eyes, this time with an edge in his tone that made it clear Ursula was being the dim one now. "What did you expect?" "Humanity," she replied bluntly. "People could die." "People are dying, Flint." He gave an exhale, half of contentment, half of exasperation as he settled back into his reclined position. "People have been dying for a while. Just not our people." An unsteady silence settled over the room, Marcus comfortable, Ursula decidedly not. Her eyes dropped back to the book she'd been reading in between tuning into the wireless, but didn't follow the lines, just stared at a point as she thought and thought and thought about the implications of that: thought about how she'd teared up when Cedric Diggory died, about seeing Dex's mother listed in the paper, about Stella's terse owl saying Caroline was on the run. About the funeral that had been the bookend for last term, and felt deeply uneasy. It must have shown, the wheels in her head turning: after a few minutes, Marcus raised his arm again, squinted at her, and said loudly, "What? It's the truth." Before she knew what she was saying, the words came out in a frustrated rush. "Doesn't it seem wrong?" "Wrong that the government's finally getting the hierarchy right?" "No," she shot back, "that they're killing people to do it. And when all the Muggleborns are gone? Are they going to take out Halfbloods next? Make breeding with non-Purebloods a crime punishable by death?" "Shut up, Ursula," came the warning, goodnatured in tone, but with an edge underneath that made her abruptly close her mouth, then flush with anger that she'd obeyed so readily. "It doesn't matter," he went on, still in that indisputable tone. "We're Pure, so we're safe." He groped out wildly toward her with a hand as if to pat her head like she was a dog, supplying cheerfully as she pushed him away, "Keep your head down, kid. Nobody's going to touch you." "Don't call me kid," she muttered under her breath, throwing a glowering look in his direction that made him snicker. "Whatever," was his lofty response, covering his eyes with his arm for the final time as his sister clenched her jaw and contemplated for several minutes throwing a cushion directly at his face. But minutes later, his snoring was the only sound at all in the otherwise very silent Flint abode. It was a very long time until Ursula picked up her book again. |