Who: Sebastian Goldstein and Mackenzie Goldstein
What: Tattoos and inner most thoughts XD
Where: Goldstein Castle
When: Some...time >>



"Oh, you're fucking kidding me, right?"

Sebastian stood in the frame of his front door, staring at the ministry official with a deep, dark glare. He was kidding, right? They were making house visits, now? Trying to tag up the poor, pathetic mudblood (he was saying the word with such vigor, lately) to make sure that the he was protected. Yes, that's right. Protected. With a bright and shiny tattoo that made it clear to anyone you were near that you were the minority, and you had reason to be worried.

He'd had his run in with death eaters (assumed, death eaters, but who really polyjuiced your wife and then beat you into unconsciousness with a lead pipe if you weren't a death eater?), he had heard the stories. He'd seen the attacks. Sebastian knew that they could attack in an instant, that they could destroy everything he loved in a blink of the eye---and while that terrified him to no ends, he'd rather die fighting to protect his family and friends then sit around and wait for it to happen.

"Your hand, sir?" the official said in a tone that showed a lack of patience.

"I don't have any hands," Sebastian said quickly, making an obnoxious gesture of rubbing his eyes with both hands. He dropped his hands to the side, but not before shaking them for a bit. "Mudbloods don't have hands, why would we need them? We obviously aren't evolved enough for opposable appendages."

Why was he being so dramatic about this?

Mackenzie tightened her already clenched hands together, fighting off every urge in her body to get up from her chair in the kitchen and walk out to the front foyer. But she couldn't, she knew that, because if she did, she and Sebastian would start to fight again, but this time in front of the ministry officials Sebastian had already begun to insult, which was going to create bigger scene than this already was. She pulled her lips together tight, trying to reassure herself that staying here would be for the best. It wasn't that--- yes, these new laws were completely uncalled for, sickening, but he was just being so--- what did he--- you couldn't break the law. Especially someone in his position! It was stupid, just plain stupid, but Sebastian didn't seem to care the least.

This was not her business. If Sebastian wanted to get arrested (or even something worse) for breaking the law, no matter how bias it was, then there wasn't anything she could do. She was his wife, and that was all. Mackenzie had done all she could do to try and reason with him, or even get him to understand. So, hence staying here was the only appropriate thing to do. Wasn't it? Mackenzie turned in the chair so that she could face the doorway, catching a glimpse of their visitors faces. Well, maybe if she just stood there with him, they would be a bit more patient. It was sad how the presence of a pureblood seemed to change everything these days, and even a bloodtraitor like herself.

Oh, this was a very bad idea, but she didn't care. As much as her mind told her to stay seated, her chest ached for her to stand up. So she did.

"Sebastian, please," Mackenzie muttered in a low tone, touching his elbow gingerly as she slipped forward from behind him. This was going to be another very big block on the stack of a horrible day she was having.

"No, no, Mackenzie," he said, his voice not meant to mock his wife, but to keep up the charade he'd created for the official. Sebastian's eyes hadn't left the officials, and a smirk had crossed his face, "No, I'd like to see what this gentleman would like to do about my protest."

"There isn't a protest, because this is mandatory," the official began, with a roll of his eyes. Sebastian thought with amusement that he wasn't the first to put up a fight, and that only made his adrenaline pump faster. Good. Good, that was great that people were protesting, even if it was pissing off these nasty tattoo artists and making their job harder.

It started small, he wasn't---he knew Mackenzie had these ideas that he was going to start painting his face and throwing fire bottles into the windows of the ministry but, he wasn't thinking like that. Not seriously, anyway. He'd love to sock the Minister in his face, but seeing as they were going to sneak around with this kind of sneaky bullshit---well. They'd just have to be cleverer.

"Well, I'm sorry--despite what I said earlier, there aren't any mudbloods here. Or muggleborns for that matter." Sebastian nodded thoughtfully, "I'm just a wizard, I think. Yeah---" he looked over at Mackenzie, to gain her positive response, "I'm just a wizard, right?"

Her hand quickly retreated from his elbow and firmly plastered itself back to her side. Mackenzie held back from forming an ill face just for her husband, finding it highly inappropriate in the presence of these other men, but something she severely wanted to do nonetheless. For now, she would ignore the fact that he was now addressing her in that unattractive manner he had seemed to grow overnight, and still not looking at her.

She just did not understand. How could Sebastian so blatantly show his desire to break the law without feeling anything but, as he put it, 'fired up'? That was not how you go through life, just putting your head out there against higher people, no matter how wrong they are. It wasn't that she had a problem with--- she shuddered at the thought, revolt against the Ministry, but there were much better ways, much safer ways, in accomplishing what he wanted to accomplish without getting himself killed. Mackenzie felt horrible for thinking it, but sometimes you couldn't win every battle, and this tattoo fiasco was one of those battles.

But no, none of that mattered. Sebastian could be quite stubborn when he wanted to be, and never had she found herself repeatedly thinking that they were more different than she had thought before. It bothered her.

Was it bad that she actually wanted to forcefully tape his mouth shut at this point? Mackenzie took in a deep breath of air, her eyes nearly boring holes into his face. He was going to pull her through this even more, wasn't he? Maybe staying in the kitchen had been the better plan. Her arms curled to cross over her chest, and Mackenzie's face stayed stone cold as she completely ignored the Ministry officials now.

Fine. "Of course," she stated, emitting pure detachment from every pore in her body. Fine.

He'd never fully understand his wife.

And that pained him, but Sebastian knew he'd never be able to read her mind like some other couples said they supposedly could do to each other. He didn't think it was his fault, he didn't think it was hers either; they were both just strong personalities in their own way. He was a loud and stubborn person, whereas Mackenzie's natural calm and poise could become just as frustrating as his loud tantrums.

Like right now. It was obvious in the glare she was sending him that she thought he was being ridiculous, and maybe he wasn't being mature and law-abiding, but why should he? They were treating him like dirt, like he wasn't worthy of being treated the same way as them---or as his wife, for that matter. Sebastian would never admit that during this time he resented Mackenzie a bit for not personally having to deal with all of the M.A.G.I.C. mess, but when she scolded him and told him to calm down, all he wanted to shout at her was that she didn't know how it felt.

She was perfect in the society's eyes. Perfect, except for the smudge of a mudblood hanging on her arm.

"Is that really all you have to say?" he said, turning is attention to his wife. Sebastian put his hand up against the frame of the door, unsure why Mackenzie wasn't on his side with this. Did she think the tattoo was a good idea? He knew she didn't want him to 'overreact' but was she really trying to tell him to just go along with all of it like it wasn't going to affect the rest of his life, "Is that really---"

A stabbing pain erupted into his right hand, and Sebastian snapped back toward the official, who had taken his distraction as an opportunity to stamp the tattoo on the back of his right hand.

"Mother fucker!" Sebastian yelled, reaching out to grab the official, but he moved back just in time, and disapparated with a crack. Sebastian stumbled down the first few stone steps of their front door, breaths heavy with anger as he stared at the mark. He spun around to face his wife, "Are you happy now?"

Of course she wasn't. Mackenzie felt miserable, misguided, and in a new sudden wave, depression. Why should she feel happy about any of this? It was becoming increasingly harder to know what she thought was the right thing; was she even remotely close to acting the appropriate way? This whole situation was hardly appropriate, and now even more and more, she questioned everything. Her thoughts, the things that she said, the way she acted, herself. Was she really who she perceived herself to be? What if--- she felt her hands clutch her sides, her fingers wrapping themselves into her clothing. Sebastian was obviously so angry, with her. With her because... she wasn't a pure little good girl.

She would not cry. She promised herself that she would not cry because of things like this; Mackenzie Loftus had cried more than enough for Mackenzie Goldstein. But against her will, Mackenzie felt her chest close up and her eyes begin to swell. Not because of Sebastian, because he was more than allowed to be upset with her, but with-- of all things, her mother kept on appearing in her head. Her mother for Merlin's sake. Her mother, the witch who had insisted that Sebastian was 'just a phase, because that isn't who Mackenzie was, deep down.' The woman who had insisted, before the family had formally disowned her, that Mackenzie would come back to them because of arguments like this. Because no matter how much she denied it, Mackenzie couldn't change herself.

And Sebastian. Sebastian. Oh, she was so incredibly selfish, so foolish for thinking that this would never bother them. He didn't deserve her, not the slightest.

For more than a few minutes Mackenzie stood still, not speaking. She felt like she had to say something. Now, fighting seemed fruitless. So once she did speak, her voice was small, and miserable. "Of course not." Mackenzie gazed down at the ground, lips pulled back tightly. She felt physical pain, like her body was falling apart in front of the both of them.

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Sebastian ducked his eyes immediately, ashamed that he'd allowed himself to get that angry with his wife, with Mackenzie. He knew they'd been working on each other's nerves, but he did truly believe that she...that she wanted the best for him. It was hard to remember in times like these, that there were people on his side, but Sebastian couldn't take the look on Mackenzie's face when he finally looked back up.

Sebastian couldn't figure out how they hadn't had this sort of talk before, or this kind of confrontation. He was ninety-nine percent sure that all of her friends (outside of the ones that were his friends too) were somehow involved with the death eaters. There was no denying it, there was no arguing it, but everyday Sebastian turned his head away when Mackenzie had them over, or when he saw her talking to them in a journal---he knew her family had disowned her, he didn't want to be the one to take everything else away from her too.

How couldn't he feel like she didn't take this seriously? He couldn't fathom how Mackenzie could stay friends with creeps like Rosier, or Dearborn (someone she'd been engaged to, a constant reminder of--that life), when every time they looked at him it was as if they were staring at a talking pile of shit. Sebastian didn't know if Mackenzie chose to ignore this for...for...for what? If one of his friends talked to her the way hers did to him, or looked at her like that, Sebastian would be sure to smack them upside the head or---not just let them.

"Sorry," he muttered, coming back up the steps. Sebastian found once again that he couldn't meet her eyes, and he hated that fact. He wanted to tell her--things, everything, he wanted to say that he didn't blame her, or think the worst of her, or anything else that might be going through her head. But, he couldn't. He couldn't, because she wouldn't do the things he needed her to do and--as much as Sebastian loved Mackenzie, there were a some things he couldn't turn the other cheek to.

"I'm going to put some ice on this," he said softly, brushing past her and into the house. Maybe they could talk tonight--but he doubted it, which hurt more than the blasted tattoo on his hand.