Wake

[highnoonsun]

Who: Rudolph Atkins, Isaiah Boswell, Antonin Dolohov, Daphne Greengrass, Demetrius Greensmith, Auror Gunn, Draco Malfoy, Edric Nott, Theodore Nott, OPEN
What: Seeing family and saying goodbye
Where: Margo Nott's manor, Waterford, Ireland
When: 2 o'clock, Friday, June 9th, 2000
Status: Incomplete

Comments

[seeingdarkness]

It had been so long since life had called for Theodore to be dressed up, it seemed odd that it should be his Nan's death that would call for it. He smoothed his robes absently, finding his way through the parlor to the coffin, fingers tracing along the smooth wood briefly. He knew this room front and back, but it was so different today, full of new people, and new smells. Things were arranged in a subtly different way, and Theo kept having to back track to find his way about the room.

Taking a step back there was a loud hiss which made him jump, a white streak flying from the room which Theo mistook for Boots, biting his lip apologetically. He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself with his father hidden away.

[dodropdead]

It wasn't dead people that frightened him. There were lots of those around; they just seemed to happen around Isaiah, and he simply couldn't claim they made him uncomfortable. They got along rather well, actually, he and dead people. Had a lot in common, really. Dead, people, skin clipped back with clips to keep it from slipping around

[seeingdarkness]

"Uh-" Theodore's eyes darted back from the path of the cat, looking in the general direction of the man and giving a flustered, and somewhat subdued smile. "Oh- yes, it's...nice, it feels very smooth," he said, fingers tracing the wood absently as though to prove the point.

"Um, I'm Theodore, sorry; I haven't been introducing myself properly. I suppose that's what I'm supposed to be doing, isn't it? Theodore Nott, it's good to meet you," he said, offering a hand

[dodropdead]

"Oh." The enthusiasm seemed to drop away just as suddenly as it occurred. It had dawned on Isaiah only then that Theodore was an unknown entity, and Isaiah was sucked further into the realm of Terribly Uncomfortable. He could never be sure how new people would take to him, and the sheer range of possibilities tinged him with a wary shyness.

Still, now he was committed. He leaped forward to take Theodore's hand with both of his, a brief, cold grasp, then jumped back again, putting a tolerable amount of space between them. With a hopeful brow furrow and a bite to his lip, he said, "Fantastic to meet you, Mr. Nott. I'm Izzy. Is this your grandmama, then?" He tapped the lid of the coffin, and instantly regretted it. Immediately, that hand went into his pocket where it would just have to learn to behave.

[slayscribestiff]

It was not with duty that Demetrius attended the event. Unlike so many years past, and so many funerals long ago, Demetrius was here with a certain knowledge of the victim's life. He had known Margo. Not well. He wouldn't pretend. He felt rather bad about it actually. He had become nearly involved with the Nott's some time ago, through one Antonin Dolohov, but it had fallen through, and the reporter had almost lost his life to a young Voldie. So he did not truly know her, though his reasons for being here were rather above the wake itself, his feelings toward the woman, or his duty to the public. The funeral of convict Edric Nott's mother? Anything could happenHeavy and waiting, Rodderick lay under his jacket, the feathers inching out over Demetrius's tie eagerly, awaiting an opportunity to strike. The reporter's quill had always been rather unsettled, wild. Lacking concentration. It was eager to write, despite it's penmanship having never improved over the long years Demetrius had owned him

[dodropdead]

A far more respectable way to greet a friend, one would think, might be a 'Hello, how are you?' or perhaps a hug or maybe at least a handshake or maybe a smile maybe? Isaiah was prepared to do any and all and some more of these things when Demetrius wandered his way, but was instead was stifled. His eyes darting everywhere at once, hands splayed before him, frozen with all the things they should have and should not have been doing.

When finally his eyes settled themselves for a long stay gazing with a wistful hopefulness towards Demetrius, his hands unlocked to smooth down his front, stilted and unsure, as if he had yet to learn how to perform the charged task. They came away, shirt still untucked, one to twist in Isaiah's hair and the other to cover his mouth as he smiled.

"Do you know who the cat is?" he asked, sure Demetrius would know this sort of thing. He always seemed to know these sorts of things.

[slayscribestiff]

Immediately Demetrius was glancing around before pulling Izzy close by the top of his trousers and pushing his shirt into them crisply, simply mortified by the idea of anyone catching him with his hand down another man's pants, patting his bum. His returning glare was fiery as he viciously tugged the pants up to the right height.

Lip curled, he pulled away, a hand self consciously flattening his suit again, pushing Rodderick back inside with a distracted tut tut. It took a few moments to calm his internal rage, and his rather childish pouting, and crossed arms, and fake mourning smiles to the passing members of the reception. His response was given with a knowing sigh, and eyes turned softly back onto Isaiah as a hand gently smoothed down his ruined hair.

"The cat. Oh here, there. Causing trouble. I should really pretend I see nothing, but if I let that Dolohov character-" his voice was hushed, "-continue to wander about, something exciting is bound to happen. I need a good story." He licked his lips as he said it, and thought with

[dodropdead]

There was only a sputtering laugh caught in Isaiah's hands as Demetrius took it upon himself to make Isaiah presentable, all of his joints loose to allow for any abuses Demetrius chose to inflict on him, making him wiggly, giggly, and completely unseemly. As soon as Demetrius stopped, so did Isaiah, his whole face hidden in his hands, only peeking through his fingers. Demetrius would probably remove the word 'unseemly' from the dictionary, if he could.

He needed more of it. Isaiah's hands twisted in his jacket, chin on his shoulder to press his nose against his jaw. Unseemly, unseemly, unseemly.

"Dolohov?" he breathed, rolling his chin to dig into Demetrius' shoulder to display his displeasure before straightening to tuck both his hands behind his head (hair: ruined), finding his next words somewhere on the ceiling. "I hope he doesn't have rabies."

[maledettodolly]

Blue swirls and golden stars and white sprinkles and bonbon and cherry, fondue, and cocoa, icing sugar everywhere and a pink smear permanently to the left of one eye. He wasn't too worried about it, but had spent half the morning trying to remove it to no avail. He wondered if he was painting the guest's insides pink.

He didn't know if Ed cared much- he'd been understandably devoid of emotion the past twenty four hours. Rudy had contemplated briefly if it had been for his sake- almost furious to think it might've been- and then calm again as he realized it was simple Ed. Even now as he perched on the arm of the chair, watching as Edric was watching, they were silent. He hadn't offered the older man a sweet yet- he didn't know how well that would fly. But his fingers were permanently affixed to Edric's neck, just rubbing lightly before Rudy leaned in to kiss the man's temple and stand tall again, plate balanced in one hand

[highnoonsun]

"Kostritzer," Edric said, voice low, eyes not leaving the fire. Not a 'yes' or a 'please', but an opportunity to dote. After a beat, Edric moved, twisted to snatch a box of matches from the table beside him and shook it, to no answering rattle. He glanced to Rudy then, expectant, a little pathetic, then tossed the box onto the fire. It wasn't sweet that he needed then-- nor did he find it a proper answer at any time. He didn't much care what anyone else did with themselves, so Rudy could paint their insides into rainbows if he wanted to.

Perhaps later Edric would care more. For now, he was still and safe and had no excuses to make to anyone-- Rudy knew better than to bother him about anything. He could watch them all and roll his eyes at their conversations and not have to tolerate their pity.

This wasn't about him anyway. It was for her. Remembering her. Not pitying each other for the loss. They all fell into that wide-eyed concern for each other, though, didn't they?

Fucking hopeless.

[maledettodolly]

Rudy's shoulders slumped, defeated, and he spared an unhelpful smile before sweeping from the room, the white laces of his apron the last to leave before the door shut with a barely audible snap.

He was a shadow through the small collection of people, offering tiny rounded cupcakes here and there till he reached the kitchen and pushed inside. The beer was cold, nearly frozen and stuck to his fingers slightly. He grabbed a pack of matches from the drawer before hurrying for the door again, beer balanced primly on the round tray. He'd nearly knocked into the door before he realized he wasn't alone. Fumbling and surprised and feeling very caught off guard, he spoke.

"Draco Malfoy?" Was he even invited?

[mister_draco]

Through all the years, you would think Draco would learn his lesson. The lesson being not to listen to father dearest but here he was at twenty years old and still listening to the man. The latest advice was attending the funeral of Margo Nott. The speech included something about old family friends and proper public appearances. Draco had tuned out after a few minutes of the grand rant and simply nodded his head every once and awhile. Little did he know at the time what he was agreeing to