◎ c h a r l i e (spinnets) wrote in valesco,
@ 2012-09-06 15:47:00

Entry tags:

adrian mattias, andrea johnson, anton chang, arista sykes, caden flint, charles spinnet, delilah spinnet, estella flint, glenda prewett, group, jeremiah whitehorn, joy mclaggen, kate dagworth-peakes, magnolia mattias, matthew summerby, michal conway lynch, nora peakes, octavius pepper, odette boot, penelope fawcett, phineas mclaggen, psyke bardera, richard house, rose knightley, rupert brookstanton, seth wadcock, therese bonaccord, tristan bardera, victoria cadwallader, wendy midgen, zoey moran

Axe's Anniversary of Birth!!!!
Charlie was pretty sure he'd missed out on a wonderful career as a party planner. As he stared out at the dance floor, which he stood over on a platform where the DJ was spinning a mix of wizard and muggle music (even with some popular French songs that were actually pretty catchy if Charlie said so himself). He wasn't surprised at how many people showed up, but it still nearly startling to see how bloody happy everyone was to be there! Sure, some looked ridiculous with the fake mustaches that were passed out (not required, obviously), but a lot had actually grown out their beards and it was----cool, they tried, they wanted to be there and they wanted to have a good time. Charlie wanted to have a good time.

The Kestrels were not top of the pack, and while he believed in his team completely, the stress of the numbers had been getting to them. A night like this was necessary, and maybe it could rejuvenate the team that had lost some valuable members this season and had done a bit of shifting around. They were still trying to get themselves into place, and it needed to happen faster than it was.

Plus, Axe had been pissy all week that no one had acknowledged the anniversary of his birth.

Charlie grabbed the mic from the DJ and grinned, enjoying colorful scene laid out in front of him. funkybuddha club had been a perfect choice for the night, "Don't everyone tire themselves out! There's still a lot more festivites to look forward to!"

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

incharge
2012-09-08 05:46 am UTC (link)

Celebrating felt nice. Not quite as nice as winning, which they were not doing nearly as much of as he would have liked, but still nice. In the small part of his heart that had not yet become petrified, Axe felt very touched at the lengths his teammates (well, Spinnet) had gone to for him, even if Spinnet had insisted on bringing his waif of a girlfriend. And there was cake, which at that moment made all things in the world glorious. He could even almost forgive the ruse they were leading him on all week. Leaning against a wall beside one of the bars, he crossed his arms and watched the partygoers (his partygoers) almost beatifically. He enjoyed the moustaches very much and scowled and fussed only minimally when Charlie had slapped one on him. He did not even recognise half the witches and wizards in attendance, which was not saying very much for Axe, but still, the sentiment of it all.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and a voice boomed out, "Which of these poisons does a man used to the finer liquors of his home partake in?"

Axe, who felt his muscles tensing at the unwanted touching, promptly felt the blood drain from his face entirely. Hardly daring to breathe, he turned his face to the speaker, a tall blonde man who offered him a charming smile. "That is the question, is it not, brother?"

The nausea churning his stomach made Axe send up one swift prayer of thanks for refusing to deviate from his strict code of sobriety and tonic water. Choking a bit over the bile in his throat, Axe wrenched his shoulder out from under the other man's grip and managed to spit out, "Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici?"

Xavier grabbed a drink off a passing tray and took a leisurely sip before turning his unwavering smile back to Axe. "What sort of brother would I be if I did not come to share in your birthday celebrations?" he asked in his near-unaccented English. Of the four of them, he'd worked the hardest at it, and it showed—he'd even gotten a job with the English Ministry for a number of years. But Axe made it a point to avoid any contact with him. Once, he'd slipped up—just once—but he'd never forgotten.

(Reply to this)(Thread)

incharge
2012-09-08 05:48 am UTC (link)

"The sort of brother you've been all your life," Axe muttered in French, tossing back the rest of his tonic water, now wishing he could allow himself something much, much stronger.

Although his smile dropped, Xavier looked no less amiable, only a bit regretful. He paid no attention to Axe's subtle guiding to use French, and replied, "It is true I am visiting on… shall we say, less than pleasant business. Someone who has not proven to me to be as lucrative an investment as you are."

Mustering the strength to sneer, Axe pressed a hand over his heart. "So you admit there is some worth to me after all. I am touched. But you did not come to here, to this heathen party, to have a drink and catch up, I think."

"No," shaking his head and regarding him affably, Xavier tilted his head to one side. "I came here because I need you to do something for me." A self-deprecating smile formed when he saw the misgivings scrawled all across Axe's face. "Oh, I know. It smarts to even have to say it."

The sickness subsided into the muscle-quivering sort of rage only his family could arouse in him, but it was better than the other kneejerk fear response. He was an adult, he was in-control of his life, he had put everything far behind him. "You would condescend to ask me for help?" Axe mocked. "The lows these dealings must have sunken you to."

Unperturbed, Xavier rearranged an errant lock of his hair. "It is not asking, as you will do this for me. What I won't condescend to do is humour you into thinking you will understand the particulars of a delicate matter such as this. But you can get me close to someone who needs a little... encouragement from me." He smile widened. "Your worthless career is actually going to serve me some purpose, so what you should be feeling is grateful."

"And I will help you out of the goodness of my heart?" Axe demanded angrily, shoving away from the wall with his fists balled tightly enough that even his dull nails were scouring skin. "What do I care? Sink in your investment; it makes no difference to me."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

incharge
2012-09-08 05:48 am UTC (link)

"Is that the answer you want to leave me with?" Xavier asked silkily, not looking the slightest bit impressed with Axe's tirade. "It is a simple matter of your willingness or your forcing my hand." He turned his head toward Axe. "You forget there is a vast expanse of your secrets at my disposal. Wouldn't everyone like to know where the real Rupert Brookstanton came from? So your tawdry English tabloids can sling mud all over your dead whore of a mother's name. Wouldn't you enjoy that?"

Axe was clenching his teeth so hard, he thought they might break. No matter how many years Xavier taunted him with the threat, even when he knew it was empty, he turned back into the angry, scared little boy. "Stop."

Stroking the rim of his glass with a finger, Xavier considered. "But no, I promised our father that that secret would never see the light of day, and I keep my promises. But it is just as well—you know what else I have up my sleeve."

A roaring sound filled Axe's ears as a terror he had not experienced in years overcame him while his brother pushed forward. "You know it makes your Banishing a referee and irreparably Transfiguring your opponents look like the spoiled child throwing a tantrum that it really was. But I wonder, do you remember how many people were hurt that night? The ones that died? Your Dark Lord is gone," Xavier almost sang, softly. "But there are whispers his supporters still lurk in the shadows. I am sure if the Ministry has let go of this case, they will be more than happy to re-examine who was responsible for the events of that night. Or better yet, perhaps we should have your Prophet report the story and let your adoring public decide what to do with you."

(Reply to this)(Parent)(Thread)

incharge
2012-09-08 05:48 am UTC (link)

It wasn't true, it wasn't, it was an exaggeration, a fabrication, but Axe knew his own guilt, and what the evidence Xavier had in his grasp looked like. He knew the murky but seemingly undeniable story it painted. "You wouldn't."

"A fool might think so," Xavier agreed in his amicable tone, stroking his chin. "But I have been backed into a corner, and you will get me out of it. Aside from my help that night, there is more you owe to me than you know." His expression grew disdainfully disdainfully malevolent. "You would not be here, were it not for me. How else do you think a drunken layabout with three counts of malicious Transfiguration in the first degree could go on to captain a team of lucky misfits?" he asked softly. "So yes, Rupert. I think we both know you will do exactly. As. I. Say."

Xavier was lying. He had to be, because he couldn't have such far-reaching ties with the English Ministry. Q.U.A.B.B.L.E. had been the ones to reach out to Axe, and they acted of their own volition, and they had—they had to have, because the idea that he owed his brother in anyway, was—

Breathing much too hard, unable to see straight, with the threat of everything, of the life he wouldn't let himself admit that he loved, being snatched away from him staring him down, his vision swam before him while he slammed his hand uselessly against the wall. Xavier wiped at his lips with a serviette.

"Now, mon frère," he admonished lightly, clapping Axe over the shoulder while his voice dragged over the pointed French endearment. "Behave yourself. You would not want to spoil such a wonderful party in your honour. You will hear from me soon." He set his glass on the bar and slowed before turning with a smirk. "Et bonjour chez vous," he said slyly, snaking his way into the crowd as easily as he'd come.

Axe was going to vomit. He leaned against the wall even as his heart was thumping in triple-time and he was quivery from the excesses of too much adrenaline and no way to expend it. A beat which felt like a lifetime passed, and the shivering of his insides showed no signs of dissipating, leaving him clammy, sick. Too rattled to notice the shaking of the hand he extended to pluck a drink, any strong drink, off a tray, he downed its contents in one gulp and dropped the glass, stepping over the shards in his quest for another.

(Reply to this)(Parent)

(Read comments) -

scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status