[attr="class","backgmin"]

[attr="class","lyric1min"]feel something

[attr="class","lyricbgmin"]

[attr="class","lyric2min"]I don't care if it hurts
I'll pay my weight in blood
To feel my nerves wake up

[attr="class","textbodmin"]Date - 30 July 2018
Location - Ministry of Magic Lift, London, UK

Vie would say she had her plate full, but that would be the understatement of the year.

She didn't just have a lot going on--she had a whole lot more than a lot. It was getting to the point where words couldn't quite describe it. But this had always been her life. Vie had always had something to do, and never a single moment to rest. She couldn't say she minded it all that much. In fact, she was quite proud of the little juggling act she had going on. Of course, once upon a time, she might have... resented all the pressure. That might have manifested into a less than favourable reaction. Something that Vie fought to keep buried against all odds, because it had really been nothing but a momentary lapse in common sense. A dark spot on her timeline that was frankly uncharacteristic of her. Because it had been fleeting and stupid and she had come out of that all the wiser. All the more confident that, despite anything else, she would always be Lady Genevieve Urquart. She would always be the last lifeline of her family. The one that was expected to take over all of the accounts and properties when the time came. A job that she had been groomed for since birth.

Vie had taken in the pressure and made it a part of herself. There was no use in being scared of it. No use in fighting it. She knew what her role was. And Vie was determined to be amazing at it. If the Urquart name was dying with her, then she would make bloody sure that no one forgot it. That would be her legacy, if anything. Maybe Vie didn't have the power to keep the name alive in blood, but she could keep it alive in history--and if there was one thing that she had learned from her mother, it was that history was a strong tool. Above all, Vie cared about her family. She cared about what they stood for, and everything that her father taught her. But even beyond that, she cared about her parents and sister. The people that had been in her life... well, for as long as she could remember. Her father, the shining example of leader. The person she looked up to when it came to absolutely anything. Her mother, the perfect lady to a tee and a loving mother. And her sister... Rosie. The person Vie would protect with her life.

Family was everything. And with family came duty.

Over the years, Vie had learned how to multi-task, how to use short pockets of time in her work day to get other things done. Walking from office to office in the Ministry was honestly just idle time. Her mind wasn't doing anything as she made her strides throughout the building, so it would be the perfect opportunity to get something a little more skull-numbing done. Vie's attention was raptly focused on the family account records for the month as they levitated in front of her--but despite her fast pace and sharp focus, Vie effortlessly made her way throughout the halls of the Ministry. She had been there for so long, between her years in the Obliviator Headquarters and all the times she had visited with her father, that it was as if Vie's attention was not at all entranced by something else entirely. The opening of the elevator doors was perfect timing, really, and she walked in without even slowing down, then came to a stop as she turned to face the panel. A hand slowly reached out to press the button for the Department of Mysteries while her eyes continued to scan the parchment in front of her.

Hm, odd. A few galleons unaccounted for. There were several things it could have been, of course. She knew her father had given this to her for the sole purpose of proofreading, after all, and there were some things he tried to keep secret--like presents. But hers wasn't for a few more months, and Rosie's had already passed, so perhaps... her parents' anniversary. That must have been it. Either way, Vie made a note to double check her math for the month. No stone left unturned.

She was mid-scrawl when the elevator lurched suddenly and the lights flickered. Vie scowled as the ink leaked out of her quill with the movement and she shook her head with some exasperation. But that quickly turned to confusion as she started to realize that the familiar hum of the elevator was... gone. Vie looked up from her parchment with a confused frown on her face. The elevator wasn't moving. This couldn't be good. She glanced around for a moment, only then realizing that the lift had been otherwise empty, except for one other person. A face that was vaguely familiar, at least to Vie, with her sharp memory of visual details and aptitude for remembering connections. Flickers of a calculating stare in some clubs, the Great Hall, followed by a flood of her rather expert knowledge of nearly every pureblood family tree. Ivan Warrington, a relatively practical and reserved housemate that had been two years her senior. But also... "Lord Warrington," Vie greeted with a small bow of her head, her face set in an expression of general serenity. You draw more flies with honey, her mother had always said. Vie's general icy behaviour was usually well hidden. "I can only imagine what magically incompetent wizard is keeping us from our busy schedules," she continued, her eyes slowly shifting to meet his gaze. Vie could feel a slight panic at the thought of keeping her father waiting. But then there was also a strange feeling of... perfect coincidence.

@ivan | 961 words | outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]
[newclass=.backgmin]width:410px;background:url('http://www.designbolts.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/Black-wood-photoshop-pattern-for-website-background.jpg');border-top:10px solid #8525c5;border-bottom:10px solid #8525c5;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lyric1min]color:#8525c5;text:2px 0px #8525c5,0px 2px #8525c5,0px -2px #8525c5,-2px 0px #8525c5;font:30px Dancing Script;font-weight:bold;margin-bottom:-20px; text-align: left;text-transform:lowercase;margin-left:23px;padding-top:10px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lyric2min]font:9px Verdana;line-height:9px;text-align:justify;color:#e6e6e6;text-transform:uppercase;float:left;margin-top:-8px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lyricbgmin]padding:20px;background:#262626;margin-left:20px;border-bottom:2px #8525c5 solid;[/newclass]
[newclass=.textbodmin]width:300px;font:10px Verdana;text-align:justify;padding:20px;background:#262626;color:#e6e6e6;line-height:14px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass]
[newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);[/newclass]

When Your Day Is Done

And You Wanna Ride On

Cocaine 

Things were... tense. Jules wasn't long home again since taking off and things between his brother and him weren't anywhere close to what they had been. There were no more snarky comments tossed about over the breakfast table in fun, no jibes in passing or jokes. Anything that did pass between them was chaste and forced, half-hearted at best, as if they'd both forgotten how to act around one another. It wouldn't have been such a problem had they not been family and so close before the situation with Constance had transpired. Having to pick between duties and allegiances within their own household... Ivan didn't know if he'd made the right decision or not. Both of their mums had been against it and as the eldest he'd sided with them in a show of support yet no one had been on Jules' side. No ome had stood with him. He knew that the relationship between them now was precarious at best because that trust between two brothers had been called into question and found wanting. It was... difficult. Ivan couldn't concentrate at home if he shut his door since Jules had settled down and the house was almost desolately silent. How, then, was he supposed to maintain his concentration at Lufkin when his beloved youngest sibling also attended? His only reprieve from it all and himself had come down to the Ministry and his desk.

To stay ahead of it all so it couldn't consume him, he had taken on yet more work from his Uncle Fernando and was out every other night scouting for unregistered muggleborns, but the latter wasn't even that well a reprieve for every time he looked beside him he was still looking for Jules. Wand out, eyes bright, prepared to do whatever it took to bring the filth in regardless of the plan Ivan had orchestrated for them. Once a peeve of his, now he found he missed it. Vincent could only do so much... no one was like Jules. Not one. Now he found himself, when home, trying to work on his relationship with their sister and trying to correct all the mistakes he'd made those twenty odd years that had bugged Lorraine or Jules. Lorraine was entirely different from Jules, just like she was entirely different to Ivan, and he could only appreciate how unique she was. They were all so different but they were the same where it counted, so at least he could say he had never struggled to speak to either of them. Thoughts of pulling Lorraine into a game of chess with him one of these days or just going out in general swam around his mind. Would Jules join them? Would he come back? 

His satchel weighed heavily by his side over his suit, crinkling the crisp shirt where the strap sank into the blazer at the shoulder. Interned were copious files on a myriad of cases, from centaur lawsuits to the newest goblin permit application and everything inbetween. Some of it was just overseeing from what the Hogwarts internships had covered and turned in - mistakes were generally prevalent within their midst l... though admittedly Ivan had to concede they generally turned in good work - to the week's submissions that he'd need to proof before handing up to Uncle Fernando to sign. Before he got that far, however, he had to go to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes for copies of a couple of cases that had come in blurring the lines of which departments should handle them. Joint work was the given and Ivan had already volunteered to do the running inbetween as well as anything else Fer would push towards his desk instead of his own. Always willing to take on more work and lessen his Uncle's load wherever he could which was likely why they got along so well. Sometimes he wondered whether Lord Thorfinn could do with someoneto take on half of his work as well. He looked perpetually annoyed... but that was generally down to people. Ivan could appreciate that. People were...a as a whole... unorganised and scatterbrained. One just had to look at rhe Atrium during the rush hours of the day to see it for themselves.

Ivan stepped back within the golden-brass elevator as Lady Genevieve Urquart stepped in, alongside a hoarde of memos. Giving only a tight lipped smile of polite greeting and a bow of his head with a muttered greeting in return, the wizard turned his grey eyes back to the sheaf of papers in his hands as the lift took off backwards away from the lights of the fourth floor and paused. Then it lurched and he barely caught the railing beside him with a practiced hand as it halted... and he looked first from the metal grills between them and the dark, unwelcoming shaft to the witch beside him with a questioning look. "Indeed," he agreed quietly, relaxing his hold on his papers and stepping forward to the door and addressing the lift. "Why have we stopped?" 

The cool female voice sounded, and he listened intently as it told him there was an unidentified problem with the routing matrix and that help was on its way. Sighing aggravatedly, he then asked for a time estimate till someone got to them and scoffed indignantly at that answer too. "What do you mean, a couple of hours?!" He demanded, looking pointedly at his unanticipated companion and rolling his eyes to her. "You are elevator seven in the queue. Please keep hands within the lift and stay calm. Help is working its way to you." He threw up his hands, papers splaying and bending in his frustrated fingers before he all but stuffed them into his satchel and dropped it beside him. Time limit be damned, the lift system was now working against him too. Had Jules and he been on better terms, he might even have written a memo to Fernando to tell his brother of his misfortune and see whether they could speed things up. Might, had he had any memos on him in the first place. "Allow me to apologise in the maintenance staff's stead, Lady Urquart. It would appear we're going to be in here for a while longer than we thought."

TAG: @vie | WORDS: 1049  | NOTES: <3

MEL @ ADOXOGRAPHY

[attr="class","backgmin"]

[attr="class","lyric1min"]feel something

[attr="class","lyricbgmin"]

[attr="class","lyric2min"]I DON'T CARE IF IT HURTS
I'LL PAY MY WEIGHT IN BLOOD
TO FEEL MY NERVES WAKE UP

[attr="class","textbodmin"]Sometimes, home felt wonderful. The place that Vie loved, with all of her heart. The place that she would, eventually, inherit as her own. Or maybe some other private island in the Orkneys--that was generally the Urquart tradition. Every heir had a quaint little Orkney island, but Holm of Huip was the main seat. And Vie loved every inch of it. It was the place she had grown up in, after all, and there was something to be said for growing up so far away from everyone else. From the rest of the world and its problems. Besides, the island that she called home was the reason she had learned Mermish so well. The one good thing that had come from disobeying the don't wander alone rule when she had been younger. Because wandering alone had led her to the merpeople of the shores, and it was why Vie had picked up on Mermish so easily. She had started young, after all. It had come in very handy when she went to Hogwarts, and the merpeople peered into the Slytherin common room. And, maybe, it had been funny to say things in Mermish around Liam just to put him on the edge of his seat and freak him out a little.

But sometimes, home was a nightmare. That was unavoidable, and once upon a time, Vie had hated it. It wasn't that she suddenly loved the nightmare, but she had learned how to deal with it. How to accept the good with the bad. But she hadn't always been able to do that, and Vie remembered the days when she would count down the hours until it was time to go to Hogwarts. It was hard being around her father sometimes. She knew he loved her, deep down. He loved all three of them--but he had his own way of showing that. It was... different. Bran Urquart showed he cared by having a watch that told him where they all were, at all times. Not by saying it, but by taking actions to keep an eye on them. Once upon a time, Vie had hated that. She wanted him to be vocal. To be sentimental--she knew he had it in him. But she had grown out of that. It was... a childish expectation. Her father didn't work like that, and Vie just had trust that he truly cared for them, and move on. Things were better, that way.

They hadn't always been this good, though, and Lia still... struggled to accept that. Which was what worried Vie. Because when she had struggled to accept her life as an Urquart, and her role at Holm of Huip, she had retaliated in a rather unfavourable way. She had spent more time at school and at the Ministry, distancing herself from her parents. She had... made a mistake. A grave one, that Vie would fight to keep buried, because it would ruin her. She wasn't proud of everything that had happened with Casper, which was why this was still the only secret she had never told Lia. They told each other everything--but this would not see the light of day. Not if Vie could help it. But this was where her worry stemmed from. Because she couldn't help but think that her little sister would go down some horribly treacherous path just like she had done. And Vie didn't want that for Lia. Her little sister deserved... so much more.

But Vie didn't know how to handle that situation, because being there for Lia meant saying something about her father that she just didn't believe, and being there for her father meant turning her back on Lia's feelings--which she would never do. So that left her in some ridiculous purgatory that Vie hated. But, better than hell--right?

Vie waved her wand to roll up the parchment floating in front of her and reached for it to place it into her bag as Ivan... dealt with the elevator. She felt a smile creep up on her face, but fought to keep it minimal. Still, it was difficult to hide the mild amusement etched on her face as she watched his very evident frustration manifest. It almost took away her own frustration at the situation--almost. Because she was still keeping her father waiting, and a couple of hours was a long time. Vie returned his eye roll with a simple shrug, a tight-lipped smile on her face. "With an apology like that, they should put you on the payroll. You would certainly do a better job than Miss Hands Within the Lift," Vie replied jokingly, nodding towards the control panel of the lift. She paused for a moment, rummaging around her work bag, then shook her head and let out a sigh as she looked up to meet Ivan's gaze once more. "And out of memos, too. I won't hear the end of this one," she said with a scoff. If she would be in an elevator with Ivan Warrington for hours, though, and keeping her father waiting... Vie figured she could make the best out of an unforeseen circumstance. "Well, if we are going to be stuck here for a couple of hours, Lady Urquart is far too much of a mouthful, and technically my mother. You can call me Vie," she said with a small smile, this one softer than her trademark cordial smirks. "Where were you headed, before your whole day was so rudely thrown off?"

@ lord warrington | 914 words | outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]
[newclass=.backgmin]width:410px;background:url('http://www.designbolts.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/Black-wood-photoshop-pattern-for-website-background.jpg');border-top:10px solid #8525c5;border-bottom:10px solid #8525c5;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lyric1min]color:#8525c5;text:2px 0px #8525c5,0px 2px #8525c5,0px -2px #8525c5,-2px 0px #8525c5;font:30px Dancing Script;font-weight:bold;margin-bottom:-20px; text-align: left;text-transform:lowercase;margin-left:23px;padding-top:10px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lyric2min]font:9px Verdana;line-height:9px;text-align:justify;color:#e6e6e6;text-transform:uppercase;float:left;margin-top:-8px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lyricbgmin]padding:20px;background:#262626;margin-left:20px;border-bottom:2px #8525c5 solid;[/newclass]
[newclass=.textbodmin]width:300px;font:10px Verdana;text-align:justify;padding:20px;background:#262626;color:#e6e6e6;line-height:14px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass]
[newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);[/newclass]