#loquacious society darling

[dickensianenglishbulldog]

I feel that Lord Peter and Sir Percy would get on well.

Also Sam Vimes and Richard Hannay

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

I only found your letter when I came home yesterday after dinner - and it made me sad for you and for your father. I just think that the hardest thing is to clear his system for the serum. It's going to take some time. But as soon as it is done, all hope will be given. Courage, my darling. I'm sure, for some reason, that everything will change for the better. The day was very tiring. Lunch at Gide's where I made an effort to speak. At eighty we only talk to people out of politeness, it's obvious. The eye is turned inwards - not to others. So that makes a kind and pure conversation that quickly becomes exhausting. 

After lunch I was given a room for my ritual rest. But I had neither my books nor my papers and you know I don't sleep. So I brooded. This illness sometimes discourages me. But I'll tell you another day how. At half past three I couldn't take it anymore and went for a walk. The weather was wonderful. I walked along the sea. It was the soft and blue sea of the summer days, the curve of the gulf was exact, and in all the sky the honey of the end of the afternoon was beginning to spread out. During all this time at least my heart calmed down. I was more sad than revolted. There is only nature and a certain nature especially that can save me from everything. I had found sweetness again. 

At 5 o'clock, tea with Gide who was still asleep and who repeated every two minutes: "voilà, voilà". Then we went to Dolo's, to whom we had promised to have a drink. Bloch-Michel was there. Dolo amused me for a while with her loquaciousness. Speaking of me in the house of Cabris, she said: "With your air of a Spanish nobleman reigning over a house, you would discourage Christ himself" or of my plays (she was an actress): "you lose weight playing them"; and again "Tenderness! Yes, there is tenderness, but at the last minute, at the moment of separation". Like that for an hour. Finally, she made us a fish soup, offered me an American pen, vitamins and a comb that cuts your hair while combing! And we went home. 

I sighed when I arrived in Cabris. The air was finally pure, light, delicious like fresh water. The sky was so full of stars that it looked grey. Here again, a sweetness. I promised myself not to go down again. I can't stand society anymore and there are still too many people in Cabris for me. You, the work, the beauty, that would be enough to fill my life. I went to bed - but I don't know why after reading your letter I couldn't fall asleep. That lost day was weighing on me. I tossed and turned until 4 o'clock in the morning. Everything that hurts me has gone there. I saw again (I can speak to you with an open heart, isn't that so my only love!) F[rancine's] unhappy face for a few days. It is a bad suffering from the one who can neither speak nor shout. And I suffer badly from this of which I am the author, in spite of myself. 

At certain hours when we are, most amiably indifferent, in appearance, I am torn with pity. I would like to soothe her, to speak to her gently, to tell her that it is an imaginary evil. I would especially like her to ask me anything difficult and exhausting, I don't know, work in a mine, climb the Himalayas, cure lepers. But she doesn't ask me anything, except to love her, and she doesn't even ask me - because everything is clear to her, the lie covered everything and she could live, if not happily, at least calmly, in the illusion maintained by the little we shared. Now I feel humiliated and defeated, and my helplessness is increasing. 

Forgive me for talking to you about this, but it exists, we know it well, and the certainty that I now share with you makes me more free to say here all that I feel. And then this insomnia has made me tired and more sensitive. How I love you, from the depths of my being, for helping me by the quality of your heart alone, to be truly myself. I kiss your hands with the love and respect that fill me, with the tears of joy and sorrow. 

I come back to this letter, unable to sleep. I have not spoken to F[rancine], she only knows that I love you. And I am unhappy, no doubt, to hit her like that and to diminish her, but it is also true that I could bear to be a thousand times more unhappy and guilty, on the condition that I possess and love you. Yes, I am also able to lose my own esteem to keep you. At least, I believe so - what is certain is that in the midst of these awful fogs of suffering and folly, I have only one light: you. I am telling you all this to take away your worries. I am here, I am waiting for you, I'm watching over you. Completely without illusion this time I repeat to you that I will understand if you don't write. What worries me are the silences without reason. But I know that you must be close to your father, help him, heal him at last. And nothing, neither silence or cries, change anything in my heart or the love with which I finally wait for you.

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, February 16, 1950 [#196]

[penumbra-rp]

Ash, you will be playing the role of Lucius Malfoy!

But accountability for his actions slips off his shoulders like a Ralph Lauren blazer as his car crashes are met with shining new vehicles wrapped up in a bow, his poor grades met with hush money slid in unmarked white envelopes to his private schools, the promise of a new advanced wing to their library on his father’s tongue.

Admin Becky: Lucius Malfoy is the Made In Chelsea cast member of my dreams. His life is so unhindered by expense or impossibility that he could chase any number of fanciful ambitions, and his responsibilities are picked and chosen from like a box of imported Swiss chocolates. And despite the fact that he’s the creme de la creme of pretentious rich posh boys everywhere, the perfect modern, magicless interpretation for a man who brought his pet peacocks to a sports tournament, you’ve made it impossible not to adore him. He balances his life so well that he’s become a list of contradictions: good and bad; entitled and generous; airheaded and strategic. For every dark deed he carries out on Riddle’s behalf, he seems to ensure his golden side shines that little bit brighter.

01. Out of Character

NAME: Ash

AGE: 25

YOUR BIRTHDAY: January 24th

PRONOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE: EST

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: He/Him

FACECLAIM: Henry Golding

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: May 25th

PERSONALITY

(+) DYNAMIC – Unlike many of his Sacred 28 companions, with a cool and aloof disposition, prone to looking down their noses at those considered lesser and offer cold shoulders to those they don’t wish to associate with – Lucius Malfoy possesses an easygoing spirit, a genuinely good-natured aura. His is an infectious energy. He’s a social creature, gregarious and charming, loquacious and surprisingly warm, the kind to shine when placed at the center of attention and flourishing within settings that allow him to be social and get to know others. There’s never a dull moment when Lucius is around, bringing a distinct liveliness to any room he steps into. He’s a people-person, plain and simple, and it’s quite difficult for others to not like the Malfoy heir.

(+) PERCEPTIVE – While there are many things Lucius doesn’t understand – jokes whose punchlines fly over his head, common sense that slips from his grasp – he is a person who pays attention to the details of the things he deems important, the people he deems important to him. He is attentive and observant, and can be rather thoughtful if motivated; keen to pick a flower for his mother from their lily gardens if he notes she and Abraxas have had a row, or pop a bottle of wine when a friend’s shoulder’s seemed too heavy with the weights of life’s stressors. While he might not be able to read a room, he can read people, noticing things that others do not.

(+) COMPASSIONATE – A massively overlooked trait, the Malfoy heir is actually a compassionate man. It shows in the charities he chooses to support, where he siphons his wealth. While many think he signs checks for the photo-ops and smiles while volunteering because it ‘looks good,’ there is genuineness in his desire to help others around him ( while also being recognized for doing it ). He likes working with the youth, coaching and mentoring a boy’s sailing team on weekends. He enjoys animals and detests cruelty towards them ( even if they’re dirty). He likes running clothing drives, setting up men and women for success with the business attire that’s collected. Deep down, his heart is a well-intentioned one – but he often times gets caught up in his need to please others and meet expectations, that he’ll do what’s necessary for the collective image of himself, his family, and their associates.

(-) FRIVOLOUS – Since he was young, Lucius has never taken much of life too seriously, attempting a more whimsical approach to all that he does and says. While this can be seen as a very positive characteristic, given his ability to brush off mishaps and maintain his air of confidence and optimism, it is also very frustrating to those who have the pleasure of interacting with him. He’s oftentimes careless and immensely forgetful – speaking one moment only for the thought to fly out of his head the next. Tuning out of conversations that he doesn’t find interesting as he daydreams. Selectively listening when given instructions only to ask what they were minutes later. His frivolity makes him lack a sense of urgency with tasks, and is oftentimes impractical with his demands as they’re over-imaginative or unrealistic to carry out.

(-) SHALLOW – Only certain types of people are allowed in Lucius Malfoy’s circle. While considerably friendly, one to make more friends than enemies, the Malfoy heir tends to take the people he meets at face value, assessing them according to different criteria, and making swift judgements based on what he finds before allowing himself to get to know them. How one looks, how they dress, how they carry themselves, how much wealth they appear to have. He notices scuffed shoes and hair with split ends, he can tell whether a garment is cotton or mohair, department store or custom-made. And while it’s wrong of him to do it, he is prone to gossipping about such things.

(-) LAZY – Since he was young, Lucius has never been held accountable for is actions, this has left him without a true sense of responsibility and lacking in the ambition and drive necessary to propel most people forward to achieve. Because he’s never been made to lift fingers for things to be done, he’s grown too complacent, keen to wave his hand and summon an assistant for a cup of coffee, or sigh loudly enough times to get someone else to bring the remote closer to him, excuses seated readily on his tongue as to why he simply cannot be asked to do things. He’s also prone to procrastinate, leaving things for a later Lucius to handle. “I’ll do it later,” he drawls, floating on his back in the manor’s pool, shades over his eyes and a serene smile on his lips.

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

Cold. It’s the word one would use to describe the life of the Malfoys. It’s decades of history beneath high ceilings and drafty corridors. It’s silence and decadence in one. To the outside world, picture perfect is what they all appear to be as they pose for photos before their grand Wiltshire manor for the Daily Prophet. An air of haughtiness surrounds them as they wear identical proud smiles, luxurious fabrics draping from their bodies and billowing in the breeze. Because they are Malfoys, and from the day he was born, Lucius is taught that this simply meant they were better than others, and as the silver spoon sat snugly in his mouth, he couldn’t say he disagreed. 

But his parents were better suited an acting profession as opposed to the socialites they were. ( One could argue they are the same thing. ) They are not the fairytale everyone sees, they are not the fair princess and her shining knight who found love. Happily ever after doesn’t end a business transaction – because that’s what their union was, a merger of families, a merger of wealth, mutually beneficial for all parties involved. For when those doors closed, it was to opposite sides of the manor that the pair would retreat, only resurfacing for dinner parties and photo-ops. And Lucius was always caught somewhere in the middle. 

In the early years, warmth could be likened to an eclipse – rare and fleeting. And it’s source? Lavinia Malfoy (nee Sun Lin), his mother. She was, and still is, his everything, as he was hers. Lucius’ birth was the one thing she came to find happiness in. While grateful, while well taken care of for the rest of her life, while more than aware of the immense honor of being proposed to by Abraxas Malfoy placed on her family, Lavinia never wished to marry him, but that choice was not hers to make. She wished to marry for love. But in their society, love was as foreign of a concept as being poor was – but it never stopped her from pouring love into Lucius, hoping that he would find the one thing that slipped from her grasp. Her instinct is to care, to nurture her only darling boy. So when he cries – she runs, every bit as unhurried and graceful as her steps can be. When he gets hurt – she consoles him, tender brushes of her hand through his raven-dark hair. When he needs her – she is always there, to be needed. And when Abraxas sternly orders to ‘leave him,’ let him stand on his own, let him stretch his own spine and steel it into something strong and iron-like – she doesn’t listen.

Entitled would be a kind word given to describe the Malfoy heir. A poster child of modern aristocracy, born of gentry and old money. As a member of the Sacred 28, he relished in having the world at his fingertips. Just a whisper of his name could get him anything of his choosing while his money could have gotten the rest. He never had to know what it was like to want for anything. But Lucius always wanted something. The grander party for his birthday to outshine those of his peers, a faster Maserati to beat Amycus Carrow’s in a race, a pristine set of Wilson tennis rackets to impress the other Sacred’s at the country club. But accountability for his actions slips off his shoulders like a Ralph Lauren blazer as his car crashes are met with shining new vehicles wrapped up in a bow, his poor grades met with hush money slid in unmarked white envelopes to his private schools, the promise of a new advanced wing to their library on his father’s tongue. 

It has been said the Malfoy boy has a head full of air – keen to talk about himself and his lavish weekend plans over anything of actual importance. And perhaps that was true, considering he was accepted to Hogwarts University not for his academic achievements or intellectual prowess; he got in because his father attended Hogwarts and his father before that, so a continuance of legacy was imperative, an acceptance letter issued after a phone call and a few pulled strings. He studies Business – if only because Triple M will soon be his own, the crowning jewel of his inheritance, and at least knowing how to manage and market and run a company is something his parents believed he should know for the future. ( But business required too much math, his Accounting course scaring him for life as he failed miserably. Private tutors became a large investment after that. ) 

But still his coursework takes a backseat to his social life. Abraxas Malfoy taught his son the key to success from young – one had to align themselves with people of influence, people of power, and once surrounded, it could make one untouchable. So that’s what he does. Through the years he captains the polo team and is elected as the student union’s president, becoming a face that everyone on campus grew to know. There was no Hogwarts without Lucius Malfoy at its core. He proves that it is not his mind but his personality, his connections, his popularity, that will take him further than the rest.

Even after he left university, his public engagements still took center stage. While he didn’t excel at math or the sciences and couldn’t remember history too well, he was an excellent communicator, an eloquent and genuine speaker, a passionate debater ( though, he was prone to get off topic from time to time ). Lucius is charming, personable, with a million-watt smile and an approachable disposition, clean shaven and well-coiffed – it’s no wonder he shines when it comes to ensuring Triple M’s image looks as pristine and as golden as he is, leaving the brunt work to his parents and their board of directors as he acts as the face of their multi-million dollar brand. Cutting ribbons and signing checks for the cameras to snap pictures of. 

He glides through social events – premieres, parties, charity polo matches – giving a grin here, a wink there, and he is loved. Oh, he is loved. Everyone wanting a picture with the heir to boost their Instagram following, to shake his hand so his infectious energy and immense luck might rub off onto their skin, to clink their glass with his own in celebration of life, to share in the experience that is Lucius Malfoy – as all things are rather dull until his arrival. Such ability to slip into circles with a smile, to evoke adoration with a few strung words – this is why Tom Riddle kept a keen eye on the Malfoy heir. He can wrap up the Death Eaters and their cause in glittering paper and make it seem like a gift to be inducted into the ranks, an honor bestowed by the most elusive man in London, known only by his shadow and the billowing of his long black coat. It’s why Lucius has been given the task of recruitment – a meaningful tap on the shoulder given, a lavish dinner party invitation issued to those of promise. The preservation of their upper-class livelihood is imperative.

INTERVIEW:

He arrives to the interview just on time, mere seconds before he’s expected – as per the gilded Rolex wrapped around his left wrist. God help anyone who dared to think Lucius Malfoy was anything but punctual. You hear the tell-tale click of hard-bottom oxfords against linoleum tile as he comes, followed by the rich sound of his laughter – because he’s happy to be here, happy to do the feature piece. The Daily Prophet made it a big to-do as he granted them above all others the first official interview with him after launching FlooNet.

When he enters, he appears as if wading through water, gliding his way through the room with easy footfalls, carless to the world and it’s worries as he has none of his own. He’s in blue – a pastel, Easter egg tone – and his skin looks tanner against the shade. If his instagram was anything to go off of, he’d just returned from holiday in Tahiti. The journalist makes a note to inquire into his trip later.

After taking a seat, neatly resting an ankle atop his right knee, he gasps softly as a woman enters, a steaming hot cup of coffee in her hands. “You’re a darling, Charlotte, thank you,” he tells her, that million-watt smile spared for the secretary as she exited the room, an unmistakable pink tinge having risen in her cheeks as she closed the door quietly behind her. When asked if they’ve met before, he shakes his head, grin still in place, saying only five minutes ago, adding that the girl needed a raise for her exceptional latte making. The heir seems to almost forget he’s being interviewed, that is, until the questions begin…

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

Contentedly sipping his coffee, Lucius plucks a near-invisible bit of lint off his trousers, the room silent for a few beats. “Oh,” he realizes, having caught the journalists expectant gaze, “I didn’t know we started.” An easy laugh escapes him, and it shakes the broad line of his shoulders with his short-lived amusement. “Okay – yes, well – I don’t think I complain, can I? I’m considered one of the rather lucky ones.” With an entire company in his name, so many people his age don’t get to inherit a legacy like this. It is not often that he counts his blessings, but this time he’s prompted to. “I work with my family, I work with a great team and they’re so helpful to me, because making decisions is difficult by yourself. Plus…” he trails off, lips pursed as if to chase off the beginnings of a smile. “My name’s on a big shiny building. And that’s pretty cool.”

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

His attention drifts upwards, eyes fixed on the ceiling ( there’s a water stain up there that distracts him momentarily, but he pulls it back ), mentally raking through the Spotify playlist currently connected by USB cable to his valet-parked BMW i8 outside. A crack of a grin begins to form as he catches the melody of the song in his head, but not much else. Concentration knitting his brow as he begins to hum the beginning of the song, head bobbing steadily as his confidence in it’s sound grew. “Hundred deep when I roll…like…the army?  Come on. It’s that song.” He prompts the interviewer with an encouraging flourish of his hand. “You know it. By that guy.” The journalist’s expression is pinched in confusion, her head shaking slowly, warily as she tried to connect the poorly drawn dots that Lucius created.

When he reaches his car after the interview, it is then that it dawns on him that the song was ‘Wow.’ by Post Malone.

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

“Of course.” Of all the questions thus far, this one requires the least thought. Something that Lucius is grateful for, until he notes the woman’s pen stopping – she expects to hear him elaborate. “A name is all a man has, in the end. You know who said that?” Lucius doesn’t give her a moment to answer. “My father. He said that when you strip away the cars and the clothes and all those things, you have your name, and who you are. And it’s like – what do people think about when they hear it? Do they think good things? Bad things?” He takes a sip of coffee, gives a half-hearted lift of his shoulder, “I like to think people think good things of mine.”

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Lucius pauses for a moment, wishing to craft an appropriate response about his parents that didn’t divulge too much and didn’t prompt further question either. His Public Relations manager discussed this with him on numerous accounts – his amicable nature causing him to unintentionally divulge a bit more than he intends. “Many say my mother and I are quite alike,” he admits, that much, he is honest about, “We’re very close.” He nods, sharing a small smile with the interviewer. “And my father, well – I think I’ve always wanted to be like him. Make him proud, and I think I have that chance to really do that with Triple M and my philanthropic work. He’s always been passionate about those things, and so am I.” Perfect, he can hear his parents echoing somewhere in the back of his mind. A perfect response.

v. What languages can you speak?

“English.” The response is stated with an upward inflection, an invisible question mark hanging between them. Dark eyes squint at the apparent obviousness of such an answer to the question. But he almost forgets to add,  “Malay too – but only with my mother and her side of the family. Cousins, aunts, that sort of thing. That’s where she’s from, you see. Malaysia.” Another pause. “Oh! And I learned BSL in school, after my nightmare with French. Truly. Croissant and Bonjour are the only things I can say with confidence. But I only got to use it when we did that new tech ward project for St. Mungo’s – there were quite a few deaf children there receiving therapy and such. They were rather excited that I knew how to speak to them.”

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

“Which one?” Lucius’ response is immediate, brows pinched together in clear and present alarm that almost seemed wrong on his until-then pleasant features. “Is it the summer one in Singapore? Or is it this one here in England?” The interviewer grows silent, unsure of how to respond, settling with a ‘it can be either one.’ “But it depends which one I’m in as to what I would save,” Lucius frets, visibly distressed. He raises a hand to rub at his left temple, the question already a frustrating one to him. “This is too much,” he gives a flippant flourish of his hand, dismissing it at once, “Can I have another question?”

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

“This I can answer,” he’s toothily grinning once more, a firm nod given, the previous inquiry and it’s stress already flying out of his head. “I studied Business at the Slytherin School. And it was hardly an easy program, let me tell you. Financial management? Economics?Accounting. Accounts receivable still makes me ill, to this day. Which, is why I give my finance team at Triple M all the credit in the world.”

vix. What is your social media username?

“@LuciusAMalfoy. Follow me. Follow us, @TripleM, @TheDailyProphet.” The heir doesn’t even think about how he instantly goes into marketing mode, pushing the company social medias. “FlooNet, Twitter, Instagram – our social team and journalists are rather engaged with the masses.”