, of masques and martyrs. [closed]

[avyx]

The chatter in the common room on a Sunday afternoon was unwelcoming as ever, despite the greetings of his fellow elitists and their loose attempts at drawing him into their conversations. Regulus wasn't particularly in a foul mood, he was just mentally exhausted from having to write back to his mother. Talking to her since his brother's disinheritance had grown to be something of a challenge if he wanted to avoid cracking her increasingly delicate state. His mother loved him, and pampered him surely - but the moment something seemed out of sorts her tumble into hysterics was an unsightly one. Over the remainder of the summer he had learned to become more emotionally guarded with her because of it; to protect her. It wasn't always easy, even in the case of writing letters; with as much care and careful consideration as possible, but he would always do his best to appease her. She'd been through enough as it were, and he wasn't about to add to it by worrying or concerning her with trivial matters. With that in mind, it had taken well over an hour to write back to her, after discarding and rewriting until he was certain to satisfy.

Now that he was done, his intent was to venture up to the Owlery; as unpleasant as that experience was. In order to get there, however, he needed to break off from noise of the common room. It wasn't so simple to just walk out for him. He had obligations to certain people that required acknowledgment and for one reason or another, many of them had taken to lounging in the Slytherin dungeon as opposed to elsewhere in the castle. Once he finally managed to pull away, the corridors no less noisy, he began to make his way up to the tower. The letter was tucked into the pocket of his robes alongside his wand gripped hand - more alert and prudent as ever since the incident with the tree in Hogsmeade. He'd yet to figure out who exactly the elder students were - but they would surely get what they deserve when he figured it out. Fighting the inclination to scowl at the memory, his eyes narrowed, footsteps falling just that bit heavier as he marched up a set of steps leading up to another floor. From there it took another five minutes or so until he reached the base of the staircase leading up into the Owlery; always a long journey from the Slytherin dungeons.

Working his way up, now occupying a vicinity that harboured a mixture of open air and owl waste he felt his jaw tense in disgust. His nose twitched involuntarily as he bypassed the sporadic trail of excrement's heading his way up the tower. Regulus was not fond of the visits, despite how common they had become over the last four years he had attended Hogwarts. The Owlery was always so poorly maintained and for that he was glad that he had opted for a cat as a child, instead of an owl. No Black familiar should have to live in such a revolting place. At the very least, Lyra spent the majority of his time minding the dungeons and recently... the forest. He forced a breath, inhaling the stench with reluctance until he got used to it, stepping into the container of Owl and excrement. What looked to be a first or second year was already there, sending off a letter. Regulus cast him his usual smug glance upon acknowledgment, the boy ducking his head and timidly rushing out upon recognition. It didn't happen too often for him to be immediately recognized outside his group and year, but it didn't surprise him when he was. There were plenty families that new to either respect or be wary of the Black's. As it should be.

Brushing it off, he walked over to his mothers owl who was perched on a stand away from the others. Where, unfortunately, he always sought to wait after delivering letters to Hogwarts until he was to return home with a response. The clean, groomed creature looked out of place in his opinion, and he hardly looked pleased to be there. Not that he ever looked pleased with anything. Meeting his eyes briefly, Regulus set about to fixing the letter to the owls leg.

TAGS: Luke & eventually Oliver!

[lukejasperdenmark]

Ah, letters from home. What could be better? Care packages from home! To his delight, Luke Denmark had gotten a package in the mail, carried in by his uncle's owl Hercule, an absolutely huge bird. It had to be! For the box was large and even though it was feather light thanks to a spell, it still must have been a challenge to fly with it. Smiling, Luke gave Hercule a few corn flakes, a little bit of his morning orange juice and an affectionate scratch on the chest. "Hang around for a bit today." the boy said softly, his blue eyes watching the bird, "I'll have a letter to send back with you."

And so, that afternoon, right after lunch, Luke Denmark stood and headed for the Owlry. He towered over everyone at seven foot four and next to Hagrid, he was the tallest person in the school. Some speculated that he was a half giant or something, but he assured them he wasn't. He was just tall. Really....really tall. He didn't mind being tall so much, it was just the endless, annoying questions.

He ran a hand through his blond hair and shook his head with a small smile, which made the scar on his face seem just a little less intimidating. He wore a long sleeved shirt as usual, though it was pretty light weight. He didn't like showing off his arms and on a chain around his neck was a hand carved wooden flute. It was only about half the size of a standard flute, perfect as a pendant for one so tall as Luke. He made his way up the stairs to the barn, a sealed letter in his hand. He knew that Hercule wouldn't have flown off, he'd wait for his master's nephew to write back and then leave. He was a very well trained bird.

To his annoyance, someone else was using the barn as well. Regulus Black. Sirius's younger brother. Rolling his eyes, Luke decided to ignore him. He hated the scent of the owl leavings and wanted to leave as soon as possible. Suddenly, a tiny little owl the size of a tennis ball shot past his face, tickling his nose. He then let loose an explosive sneeze into his elbow that not only startled the birds into the air, caused most of them to poop. Unfortunately, most of the little white presents from the sky landed on Regulus, decorating his clothing, hair and skin with the gooey, disgusting smelly little blobs.

"Uh...sorry." Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort and then, quickly called Hercule to him and started putting the letter on his leg. The owl seemed....amused by the sight of Regulus, for he kept hooting and shaking himself, puffing out his feathers, as if ..... as if he were laughing.

[avyx]

The owl, Turias, being the exceptionally well-behaved and proudly so - owl that he was, gave little trouble for Regulus as he tightened to letter to his leg. He did not need feeding, nor did he need any taunting to do so either and more less stood perfectly still on the stand with only a flicker of a wing. His mother had gotten him well-trained and made certain that he was indeed so. If only for that, it had made his reluctant trips to Owlery just that less painful. He'd been made aware that not all owls were fixed with the appropriate attitude and on a couple instances had had the unfortunate opportunity to utilize some of the schools owls in the sending of letters. They had, of course, proved to be just that bit more stubborn than his mothers perfect Turias. He was treated fairly in the Black home, much like Kreacher in that regards. Anything belonging to the Blacks was treated like property of a Black; with proud care and relative nobility. For that, Turias, Kreacher, and even Lyra were all very fortunate members of the household. And well cared for at that. Despite what the masses of people seemed to think, Black's were not cruel to the things they valued. And sometimes Regulus sought to wonder how some house elves and animals could be so poorly treated by their masters. He could never imagine raising a hand to any of them for any reason. Their behaviours were relfective of their masters and were therefore their responsibility.

His values were clearly superior in that regard - albeit he prefered to believe his values were superior in every regard. Nevertheless, he found himself dismissing his mindless contemplations, footsteps climbing the stone staircase leading up to the tower. Acknowledging the weight of his wand in the pocket of his robes, he held out his for Turias to leap to, meeting eyes with him sternly with tentative respect. The owl hooting in kind before taking off. It was fair to say that while the animals of the Black household were well taken care of, they were not exactly the affectionate sort - with the occasional exception of Lyra. They did not need to be pet, and Turias actually quite disliked it, having bitten a third curious third year for doing so at one point. He did not take the time to reminise however; eyes watching as the creature disappeared through one of the large open gaps in the walls. It was only upon the entrance of the owner of the footsteps that he slipped his gaze sidewords. And inwardly cringed.

If there was anyone to make him feel extra self-conscious about his height - not that he would ever admit that he was, it was Luke Denmark. A bleeding heart Gryffindor of all things. And Regulus very much considered him a thing in effect of his height and well... because he really did not like him. Unfortunately, it took him a very long moment to override immediate rush of irritation, his hand fastened to the inside of his robes and latched around his wand with caution, before he actually made to step towards the exit. Thankfully, the Gryffindor hadn't made any effort to pick a fight like his assortment of enemies so often did. And for a moment, he actually felt he could leave the innards of the Owlery without any issue. That is, until the giant of a Gryffindor had the impulse to sneeze and before Regulus could really react, beyond raising his arms to shield himself, he was covered in owl droppings, gasping in horror and disgust as he struggled to process what had just happened.

The apology went mostly unheard as he sought to shake off what had landed on his arms, his wand - which had been held in his hand all the while, dripping with the gross smelly substance as well. Not only that, but he could feel it in his hair, sliding down his neck and on multiple places over his dark emerald robes. The only place he had managed to protect, was his face. Unsure where to start cleaning away the nasty fowl excrements, he found himself looking up to glare at the other male who was occupied with his own owl. He sneered behind his back, wiping his wand off in his robes as he proceeded to cast a spell to clean his hair, first and foremost. "Filthy blood traitor," he mumbled, unable to stop himself, irony clinging to his words as he finally set to cleaning his robes.

OOC: x3 he'll need a bit egging on before he mentions the murder, but it shall be done soon~

[lukejasperdenmark]

"Blood traitor?" Luke asked with a laugh as he drew his wand and started using a cleaning spell to clear away some of the owl ick from his clothes. "I'm a half blood, half my heritage comes from the muggle world. So of course I'm a blood traitor. And I'm proud of it. If you're going to insult me, at least do it right." he told him and then glanced around for Hercule, but couldn't find him anywhere. He figured the owl had taken to the air with the rest of the birds and would return later.

"Look, I'm really sorry about .....what happened. It was an accident. A mistake." Luke said firmly and then, leaned against the wall to wait for his uncle's owl to return. He decided to pass the time by adding a PS to his letter. He broke the seal with a little magic, then took a self inking quill from his pocket and pressed the parchment to the wall and began to write.

Some of his letter was a thank you to his uncle for sending him the care package, but most of it was about the things he'd been doing lately at school. Such as getting ready for his first match against Slytherin and how he expected to crush them like bugs. He'd written about how he was improving in his classes thanks to Lily Evans, and how much fun he actually had around her. He also wrote about Konstantine, or Teeny as she preferred, asking the man's advice on what he was supposed to do about them, since he had feelings for both girls.

As he wrote, he kept his body firmly in the way so Regulus wouldn't be able to sneak a peek. He wrote his PS at the end, mentioning what had just happened and then, as the owls all came back in one by one, he saw Hercule was among them. "C'mon big fella." He said and then started attaching the letter to his leg, then scratched him behind the neck, making Hercule hoot and shudder happily before flying off.

He looked down at Regulus, "Welp, see you around shortie." He said, insulting him right back for before as he made his way for the exit.

[avyx]

Cleaning off the smudges of clumped, sticky owl excrement on his clothing, he merely stiffled the opportunity to sneer at the giants retort. Calling the fool a blood traitor had been more of a comment appealed by his clear frustration with the situation, one that he had not intended to say beyond reflexive instinct - one that was merely something he regarded any non-pureblood with, given that they weren't of muggleborn status. Frankly he could have gone well without exalting any amount of acknowledgement of the Gryffindor and would have preferred Denmark had had the mind to ignore him in his mutterings. But, Gryffindors - he fought back the need to roll his eyes - too stupid for their own good. Surely by now his kind were used to mindless slanderings.

Mistake? Regulus had been right there to see him sneeze. Accident yes, but mistake was not the word he would have used to describe the situation. This boy - or monster, or whatever the hell he was, was clearly missing out mentally where he seemed to excel physically. It would figure - just like his brother; all Gryffindors were the same. Saying nothing in response, he took the remaining time to clean off the rest of his robes whilst the Gryffindor went about his own business. The only reason he hadn't high-tailed it out of there yet was out of pride. Having the Gryffindor cause, and further yet witness the incident was grating enough. The last thing he needed was people pointing out that he had owl feces adorned onto his robes.

Seeing as everyone was shorter than the Gryffindor - apart from possibly Hagrid, Regulus had a hard time understanding Denmark's tone of belittlement when he set out to leave. "Your poorly mistaken if your hope was to insult me by stating the blatantly obvious." His eyes narrowed, shoving off the fact that, yes - he was shorter than what was common for his age. His ridiculous pride offered him only the rationalization that the same could be said for everyone in the case of the giant Gryffindor. Had it been anyone else, he may have actually been insulted by it. So why was he even wasting his breath for this imbecile? Surely a few owl droppings - which frankly after all these years of dealing with Sirius' fan network, was not the worst that had encountered his hair and clothing, was not nearly enough to piss him off to such a degree. Or perhaps that was just enough for that current moment. All his resources for tolerance had been wrung dry whilst writing the letter up for his mother and his patience was being tested and further strained.

"It would figure common sense would come poorly to someone without parents." Okay, a jab he hadn't intended nor would ever bother to make under normal circumstances, even upon finding out that the boys parents were killed, but he was not at all able to focus properly, much less keep his temper under control and his attention on cleaning his robes with the obnoxiously tall Gryffindor waving that fact in his face. And he was just straight annoyed in general as anyone ought to be in his situation. Bloody owls. He would make sure to inform his mother to start using Kreacher to deliver their mail. Least so that he wouldn't have to worry about such a thing happening again.

OOC: crappy post. bleh. better than nothing <3

[lukejasperdenmark]

"I'm just pointing out the obvious. Kind of like how you did." Luke said quietly and then, froze dead in his tracks. At first, he wondered how Regulus could have known. He didn't really make it very common knowledge that he lived with his uncle and he didn't speak much about his home life except to his friends and he didn't think they'd tell.

He turned and strode over to Regulus, grabbing the little weasel by the front of his robes, he lifted him off his feet and into the air with one hand. "Care to repeat that?" he seethed, his free hand shaking slightly with the effort of containing his anger. Oh how he wanted to punch him in the gut, or the face or even in the side. Anywhere! Instead, he took in a deep, shuddering breath and lowered the boy to the floor, giving him a slight shove. Not enough to knock him off his feet, but enough to let him know he was on the edge.

"Don't you dare....talk about my parents." He hissed through clenched teeth, the scar on his face was twitching slightly and then, he gripped his pendant and slowly counted backward from ten. Hopefully, Regulus would realize he'd dodged a serious bullet just then. Somehow though, he doubted it. Regulus didn't look like the type to take a hint very easily.

As Luke turned to try and leave, he released his hold on the necklace and made his way for the door again, grumbling under his breath. He was telling himself that it wasn't worth getting into a fight with Regulus, that it'd only land him in hot water with Sirius, which would tick James off and possibly get him cut from the team. He didn't want that. Not one bit. So, he forced himself to keep on putting one foot in front of the other.

[avyx]

A statement. He maintained mentally. Not bothering to correct the giant human over such a petty thing. Such titles were simply ways to regard someone in his mind. A substitute for a name - one that could demean them all the same, but acted as a generous substitute in his mind, considering that regarding one at all was a privilege not many received on a day to day basis. Regulus was not one to typically waste his precious time on another, lesser being unless he had little choice in the matter. Or... unless there seemed to be an emotional investment buried somewhere. Like the irritation he felt as owl matter had all but showered him. It was a great relief when he found himself clear of the dark clumped, but oh so sticky substance no longer streaking down his clothing. He would most certainly make a note to shower later however. There was just some filth that couldn't be washed away with the flick of a wand.

The mumbled spell no longer on his tongue, he let out a very strained gasp the moment he was picked up off the ground. His hand tightened around his wand, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing as his skin was pinched in the process, dangling from the Gryffindor's grasp. Despite the condition he was in however, he could not bow to the fool; his eyes hardening and the point of his wand held towards the male at his side, "Remove yourself from my person," He let out, voice thick with chill concealing any trace of fear that ought to have surfaced. He'd been in worse situations. He walked the forest at night. Regulus Black was not afraid of the Gryffindor - no matter how tall and angry he could be. His Black Pride had all but smothered that instinct. Raised to do so - and encouraged by his will to uphold honour to his name. He could not however, smother the relief that flooded his chest as he was set down. The elder male struggling to keep himself composed despite it all. Had he felt threatened any further, Regulus had no qualms over utilizing his wand. He was a good duelist and at the very least, he could protect himself with that. He'd done it many times before.

Regulus watched as the older boy stepped back, hissing until he began counting. Pathetic. It was pathetic. Had it been Regulus who was at the receiving end of such an insult - he would have reacted without thought. This boy was a shame to his family; his name - half blood or not. Regulus gave him a cold look of pure disdain as he watched him turn to leave. He could never imagine doing his parents such little justice. Or backing down the way Denmark did - too pathetic to take vengeance for his parents. It would only figure - him being the bleeding heart Gryffindor that he was. They couldn't even defend dead relatives when it mattered most. Regulus would have illicited the most agonizing spell he knew. And as much as he didn't enjoy the act of torture - it would please him to know that his foe's received exactly what they deserved. But as much as he preferred being on the casting end - the receiving end was not a pleasant one so he made no effort to stop the Gryffindor from leaving. It made no difference to him that Denmark's parents were killed by someone who was a part of the very group Regulus sought to idolize. But his severe lack of pride and loyalty to his family name deserved no acknowledgment.

OOC: Fin? I suppose. x'D Unless you feel you can add to it.