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sweetpinkpixie · 05-04-2025, 10:34 AM

Charles let out a soft, breathy chuckle—not quite a laugh, but enough to stir the warm tea-scented air between them. He stirred his own cup absently, the silver spoon tapping gently against porcelain, rhythm matching the mellow swing of the jazz in the corner. And yet something coiled quietly inside him. The Cult. That Cult. Walpurgis. The word still tasted like blood and ink. He remembered the way it had started—innocuous, clever, almost polite. 'Environmental reform,' 'magical sovereignty,' 'transparency.' Euphemisms smoothed over with parchment and public statements and like a creeping vine, the truth of blackmail, torture, and control underneath. Charles had been a reporter at the Prophet during that time, freshly back in the United Kingdom and was risking his job (and his neck) for bylines that never made it past editorial. By the time the Prophet admitted anything, it was already too late. And by then, Charles had already been in too deep. "Well, we can simply say you all grew into your tenacity and we all are the better for it," he offered warmly, plopping that one sugar into a cup and giving his wand a little swish to command the kettle to pour the tea.

He quieted for a moment, thumb rubbing absently over the curve of his cup while the other meant for Simon levitated itself towards the young man.

He raised his cup in a light, almost toasting gesture. "To crumble cake diplomacy, then," he chuckled before taking his own small sip and wished he had not finished off the last bit of crumble cake sent to him by Kurumi just the other day ― a playful peace offering from his little sunspot as she was whisked away yet again by the International Confederation of Wizards to discuss some issues and policy on magical species preservation. Then, with a half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, he said, "So, how are things, really? These weirder things you just alluded to." His voice was casual, playful, but there was a flicker in his eyes that made the question feel less rhetorical and indicative of small talk.

05-04-2025, 10:34 AM	#20 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,479 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Fourth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Calliope Barrington Slytherin Sixth Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Charles let out a soft, breathy chuckle—not quite a laugh, but enough to stir the warm tea-scented air between them. He stirred his own cup absently, the silver spoon tapping gently against porcelain, rhythm matching the mellow swing of the jazz in the corner. And yet something coiled quietly inside him. The Cult. That Cult. Walpurgis. The word still tasted like blood and ink. He remembered the way it had started—innocuous, clever, almost polite. 'Environmental reform,' 'magical sovereignty,' 'transparency.' Euphemisms smoothed over with parchment and public statements and like a creeping vine, the truth of blackmail, torture, and control underneath. Charles had been a reporter at the Prophet during that time, freshly back in the United Kingdom and was risking his job (and his neck) for bylines that never made it past editorial. By the time the Prophet admitted anything, it was already too late. And by then, Charles had already been in too deep. "Well, we can simply say you all grew into your tenacity and we all are the better for it," he offered warmly, plopping that one sugar into a cup and giving his wand a little swish to command the kettle to pour the tea. He quieted for a moment, thumb rubbing absently over the curve of his cup while the other meant for Simon levitated itself towards the young man. He raised his cup in a light, almost toasting gesture. "To crumble cake diplomacy, then," he chuckled before taking his own small sip and wished he had not finished off the last bit of crumble cake sent to him by Kurumi just the other day ― a playful peace offering from his little sunspot as she was whisked away yet again by the International Confederation of Wizards to discuss some issues and policy on magical species preservation. Then, with a half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, he said, "So, how are things, really? These weirder things you just alluded to." His voice was casual, playful, but there was a flicker in his eyes that made the question feel less rhetorical and indicative of small talk. __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like