Topic: reality is overrated {freddie} (Read 135 times)
Alyssa Avery a d u l t j o u r n a l i s t[M:0:5:5:] member is offline
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 15 Karma: 9
reality is overrated {freddie} « Thread Started on Jul 20, 2009, 5:45pm »
It had been a surprisingly quiet day at work for Alyssa, with the latest issue of the Quibbler having gone out the day before and therefore leaving them at the start of the publication cycle; the rush always happened right before the deadlines, when Lyssa could be sure that she would be getting no more than a couple of hours sleep until everything was ready and sent off to be printed. With no work to bring home with her, she’d planned to get herself a ready meal out of the freezer and sit down in front of the television for a little while, enjoying her muggle-world technologies despite her life in the magical one. Being able to live in both worlds equally was something that Alyssa was learning to embrace rather than shy away from, and though she belonged properly in neither, she fit in well enough if she knew the right things to say and the right way to act.
That had been her plan, anyway; plans always seemed to have a way of getting disrupted. She’d been walking down one of the streets on her route home, still firmly in the magical world, when she’d overheard a group of young men, her sort of age or perhaps a little older, talking about filthy mudbloods and how it was disgraceful that Potter and his people didn’t see that the muggle born registry implemented last year had been a good thing. For whatever reason, it had sparked something in Lyssa’s mind, and now she was sitting in the middle of her lounge, glasses sliding down her nose, books spread everywhere and a marker pen in her hand, writing over and over again the things she remembered her parents telling her about muggle borns and how they weren’t real wizards on her wall. If they weren’t real, then neither was she; there had to be a connection and she needed to find it.
Being brought up in a Dark Lord supporting pureblood family meant that Alyssa had always been led to believe that muggle borns were dirt who had stolen their wands form a proper, deserving witch or wizard, higher in standing only than half-breeds and Squibs. It had been a belief that had been overturned with the discovery of Alyssa’s lack of magical blood and her subsequent exile into the muggle world (although it had been the best years of her life, and she wouldn’t have called in an exile at all), but now the deeply ingrained thoughts were back. “Not real,” she muttered, holding her pen in her teeth as she flipped through a book, completely uncertain about what she was looking for. She didn’t know what she was writing, either, but she had to make notes, to write down what her parents and her brother had told her because therehad to be a connection. “Mudbloods are filth,” Lyssa continued in the tone of somebody who was reciting something they’d learned by rote, going back to writing notes on her wall. “They have no magical parents but have magic, which they stole from purebloods, so they’re not real. I have magical parents but no magic, so does that make me not real too?”
« Last Edit: Jul 20, 2009, 5:46pm by Alyssa Avery »
Frederick Avery a d u l t m i n i s t r y[M:0:12:4:] member is offline
Joined: Jul 2009 Posts: 11 Karma: 16
Re: reality is overrated {freddie} « Reply #1 on Jul 31, 2009, 1:50pm »
Flat 12a, Featherstone Lane – was this really what the family of Avery was reduced to? Freddie looked about him as he stepped into the street, glancing up toward the flat where his sister, with any luck, would be occupying herself in. If his memory served him correctly, then Alyssa would be off work by now and off doing…whatever it was she did these days. It wasn’t in the interest of Freddie to know what Squibs were up to, even if they were family members. At least she had a respectable job in the wizarding world, rather than parading her disease for everyone to see by continuing to associate with muggles. Oh, he had no doubt that Alyssa was still somehow linked to the muggle world; her insistence to prolong her stay here was evidence enough to this. The truth was that Frederick simply did not want to know – as long as she kept it to herself, he wouldn’t ask about it. Everything and anything else though…Freddie liked to be in the know when it came to the rest of her life and what went on in it. After all, what she did would affect the entire Avery reputation, and that meant it would affect Freddie.
Not that the Avery reputation wasn’t already in the balance as it was – thanks to their father, where once they were just suspected dark supporters, they were now branded as Death Eaters – every last one of them. It took a three week trial for until Freddie was able to clean his name from the mess he was left with; he was guilty, obviously, but with no evidence to pin on him and not one witness willing to speak out against Frederick Avery, despite the feeling of success with Voldemort gone, meant that Freddie got to walk away a free man with all his assets to account for. Freddie kept his eyes down as he passed a few wizards leading toward the flat – there was no need for them to know he was here, no need for them to know he was in any way associated with the muggle world. They believed him to be entirely separate from that nonsense, and Freddie was more than happy to let that continue for as long as possible.
The downstairs door was easy to open, Freddie not even bothering to request permission when his wand could do all the talking for him. A swift unlocking charm and he was in, taking the stairs two at a time as he reached for Alyssa’s flat. A flat. He now had the sole ownership of Avery Manor and she still preferred this over their family home. Not that Freddie had ever invited her back – he would much prefer to see her begging for him to allow her refuge than offer it willingly to her.
“Not real,”
Freddie frowned as he stopped outside his sisters door, hesitating just as he had been about to push his way inside. Did she have someone else in there with her? He carefully pressed himself against the door, listening intently for any signs that there was anyone else besides Alyssa in the apartment.
“Mudbloods are filth. They have no magical parents but have magic, which they stole from purebloods, so they’re not real. I have magical parents but no magic, so does that make me not real too?”
Freddie smiled to himself, stepping back from his position and giving the lock a casual flick to unlock it. He was quite sure she was along – all too often had he entered in a similar situation, with Alyssa muttering to herself about one thing or the other. He called her mad for it, which she no doubt hated him for. Love and hate were such similar emotions though, and they were family. Even if someone were to be in there with her, the topic of discussion was one Freddie would find easy to slip into. With confidence Freddie swung the door open with a soft nudge from his foot, as if he deemed it beneath him to use his actual hands to perform such a task. Looking at the scene before him, Freddie knew he had been right – his mad sister was there alright, writing again about who knew what. He smiled, less than welcoming, in what might be assumed as a greeting. It was more of a predatory grin than anything else.
“You’re not a total lost cause then. I had begun to give up all hope, Alyssa” he drawled out, closing the door softly behind him. Freddie didn’t want to go breaking her door, after all. He was a guest. “What’s that you’re working on?”
Alyssa Avery a d u l t j o u r n a l i s t[M:0:5:5:] member is offline
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Re: reality is overrated {freddie} « Reply #2 on Jul 31, 2009, 4:41pm »
Alyssa chewed on her pen, pausing momentarily in her research to consider the problem fully. She’d never really thought about the fact that perhaps, in the eyes of the rest of the wizarding community, she wasn’t really real. Not in physical form, because there was no doubting that she existed (although she did pinch herself just to make sure, and ow!), but as a member of society. She knew she was inferior to everyone in this world, had known it when she’d made her decision to come back into it rather than living in the muggle world where she was at least somewhat on an equal footing to everyone else, but did they really not see her as a person? It had certainly seemed that way with her family; after she didn’t get her Hogwarts letter, she could have been standing right in front of any of them and they wouldn’t have noticed her. Could a person become invisible just because others didn’t want them to exist? Alyssa knew that her family – her father and brother in particular – probably would have been happier if she’d not been around at all, after all the shame she’d brought upon them, so maybe that desire had made her not exist once her inability to do magic was discovered. She didn’t fit anywhere, after all, so it wasn’t too big a stretch; she was neither muggle nor witch, and belonged nowhere.
Her brow furrowed, Lyssa turned back to her books, flipping through pages rapidly, her eyes scanning the words for something, anything, that would disprove her theory that she wasn’t really meant to be here. She’d read these books several times, but there was always something new in them that—ah-hah! Alyssa ran her finger down a page, coming to a stop under a single line: Homenum Revelio. It was a spell that (in theory, of course, since she had no way of verifying it) would let its caster know if there were other people in the building they were standing in. Maybe, if she could work out the right words, it could be adapted to reveal only muggles, or only wizards. And then, somehow, she might be able to work out what she was classed as in the bigger picture – if indeed she was classed as anything and wasn’t so different that she defied all classification entirely. Of course, she’d need someone to cast the spell for her but that wouldn’t be an issue for the time being; she had to work out if it was feasible to adapt it first.
Standing up, Alyssa pushed a pile of books to one side with her foot so she could stand in front of a currently blank area of wall, and uncapped her marker pen. In capital letters she wrote, HOMENUM REVELIO. “Need the word for muggle,” she muttered, picking up the book from the floor and flicking through it frantically, searching for any spell that might be used to repel muggles, or change their memories, or something that she could use. “Muggle…muggle…muggletum,” she found, writing the word underneath and repeating revelio. Now all she needed was the word for ‘wizard’ or ‘magic’, but she’d have to consult her Latin dictionary for that and she wasn’t sure where that was. Was that really all there was to creating a spell? Finding words that fit the meaning you wanted and then just waving your wand so it appeared as if by magic? No, not as if by magic; it would be magic. She smiled wistfully. Most of the time, she got by without needing magic, but there were times, like this, when she wished she had a wand of her own. Of course, if she had a wand then she’d be a witch like she was supposed to be and wouldn’t be in this situation, trying to create a spell that she had no idea if it would work, so the point was moot.
“You’re not a total lost cause then. I had begun to give up all hope, Alyssa.”
“Frederick?” Alyssa asked absently, still writing underneath her made-up spell, responding to the voice rather than the fact that there was someone in her house. Wait, there was someone in her house? “Frederick! What are you doing here? The-the door was locked, how did you get—?” She turned to look at him, dropping the book she was holding to the floor and moving away from him until she was leaning against the wall, conveniently covering up what she’d just written, almost tripping over a pile of books to get there. “I mean, silly question,” she continued, giggling nervously, “since you can just, you know, wave your wand or whatever. I didn’t know that worked on people’s houses though. It’s kinda an invasion of privacy, though. I’m not sure I like that, it seems a bit rude, especially when people have locks on their doors for a reason, but I suppose it’s meant to be that way or something.” In fact, Alyssa wasn’t sure that she liked it at all; it was bad enough that Freddie knew where she lived, and if he essentially held a key to her flat then that meant he could – and would, because she knew him – walk in and out any time he pleased.
“What’s that you’re working on?”
“Nothing!” Alyssa replied, far too fast for him to believe that she’d not been doing anything other than reading a good novel before he’d barged his way into her flat – the one place that she could be herself without constant reminders of what she wasn’t. “Y-you wouldn’t be interested,” she amended, knowing that saying that was just asking for him to make her move so he could see what she’d been writing on her wall before he came in. Unfortunately, she knew her brother too well, but she could hope that he’d changed since last time they’d met. Maybe he just wanted to sit down with a nice cup of tea and have a chat. She’d have to find her chairs beneath the piles of stuff first, but Alyssa could manage that.
« Last Edit: Jul 31, 2009, 4:42pm by Alyssa Avery »
Frederick Avery a d u l t m i n i s t r y[M:0:12:4:] member is offline
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Re: reality is overrated {freddie} « Reply #3 on Aug 1, 2009, 2:07pm »
Freddie never would understand his sisters strange attitude toward…well, everything really. Her mind seemed to work in a way that was completely foreign to both him and the rest of the world, making connections to random happenstances that would seem odd to anyone else. They were odd, and it was wrong. What with her weird habit of writing on anything that laid still for long enough to do so with – though, what would Freddie know about the mind of a squib? How he would loathe it if such a time ever came when Freddie might gain an insight into their primitive ways. It was so demeaning. They were defenceless to the mercy of the wizards who surrounded them – unfortunately for Alyssa, she got stuck with the Avery’s for a family. If ever there was a reason to feel sympathy for the woman, that would be Freddie’s choice; not that he saw anything wrong with his family, but she certainly did not fit in to their way of life.
What did a squib do all day anyway? How frustrating, to see magic performed but to be restricted by your own lack of talent. The way Freddie saw it, they deserved it. His father had always told him that all squibs must have done something to warrant their magic being stripped from them; the parents had produced a magical child to be sure, they weren’t to blame. The fault came to rest at the feet of Alyssa – however much she insisted that she was the same as him and the rest of the wizarding society, Freddie wasn’t to be fooled by it for one moment. They might be connected by blood, but he knew all she wanted was to steal his magic once his back was turned – it was how muggleborns first got their magic, after all. Why should this situation be any different?
“Frederick? “Frederick! What are you doing here? The-the door was locked, how did you get—?”
Freddie merely continued further into the apartment, his smile never wavering. “The one and only” he replied, his eyes scanning the room he had just entered. It was so cluttered, so…Alyssa. He on the other hand loved everything in order, loved everything to be under his control so he knew what was going on. It was just how Freddie was, how he had always been. On every visit to his sister’s home Freddie would always attempt to make it at least presentable, just enough so his presence made at least a small impression on the apartment. Alas, it never seemed to be though – he always came back to the same, pathetic sight that looked as though a raid had commenced just hours before. It was pitiable how Alyssa couldn’t order her life – it wasn’t like there was much to order anyhow.
He rolled his eyes dramatically as Alyssa continued to ramble. Was she still going? Really, that girl had no idea when to stop. It didn’t matter whether she liked Freddie entering her apartment with no invite, all that mattered was that he did and she couldn’t stop him. He didn’t see why she was getting so troubled by this now – for all Alyssa knew Freddie may have been coming and going as he pleased without her knowing for years now.
“Nothing! Y-you wouldn’t be interested,”
When Freddie had asked he hadn’t really given much thought to what she might actually be up to, hadn’t cared. Now though, now he was interested. Alyssa looked quite flustered about nothing. After all, shouldn’t brothers show an interest in their sister’s hobbies, or whatever else this was? Yes, Freddie wanted to know, and he would get the truth. With his luck it would be painfully dull anyway, and they could get onto more worthy topics outside the life of Alyssa.
“I’m sure I could find a moment of my time to look at whatever has captured your interest so” Freddie walked calmly over toward Alyssa, stopping just short of where she was standing. “Let me see it, Aly, and I’ll tell you at a moments notice if I find it dull. You can trust me, can’t you?”
Alyssa Avery a d u l t j o u r n a l i s t[M:0:5:5:] member is offline
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Re: reality is overrated {freddie} « Reply #4 on Aug 1, 2009, 5:33pm »
Having her brother in her home made Alyssa distinctly uncomfortable. In fact, being around Frederick at all made her uncomfortable, and as she watched him look around her living room, she was struck with the sudden urge to hide things away. Not that she had anything majorly incriminating lying around, but Freddie didn’t seem to like the way that her life was always so cluttered and disorganised, and she didn’t want to make him hate her more than he already did. Besides, she didn’t want him looking through her personal things; they were called personal for a reason. It would be just her luck that he’d find something that went majorly against his beliefs or what he thought she should do, and that would get him angry. She didn’t want to make him angry; if she did that, things would be even more uncomfortable than they were now, and she might very well end up hurt. He did have the upper hand, after all, and there was no way she would ever be able to forget it; she was the accidental baby, the one nobody expected. She was the one who was wrong, who brought shame upon the good name of Avery and who would have been disowned had it not been for Frederick’s intervention. That was something she didn’t understand, but she tried not to think about it; there were two things that Alyssa found hard to get her head around, and Freddie was one of them. Maths was the other, but she didn’t usually have to worry about that one too much.
However, Lyssa didn’t move to frantically run round her room to stack books into neat piles and push her furniture back against the walls so it didn’t look like she’d been chasing a mouse or something. There were no mice here, she was sure of it; she just needed enough space to be able to get to the walls, and she couldn’t do that if there was a cupboard or bookcase against it. In fact, for the number of books that she owned (it was almost impossible to get from one end of the room to the other for all the piles lying around), she had surprisingly few shelves. They just took up wall space, and she needed that space to be free. Instead, she did her best to press herself up against the wall, marker pen still in her hand. Hopefully, Frederick would get bored with the looking round and decide to leave her alone. It wasn’t as though they ever had great conversations (he never seemed to have much to say to her, while she talked at great length about absolutely nothing), and there wasn’t anything in her house that would interest her. It was all too muggle for a pureblood like him. Not too muggle for a pureblood like herself, though. Alyssa wasn’t sure that she even counted as a pureblood, anyway.
“Let me see it, Aly, and I’ll tell you at a moment’s notice if I find it dull. You can trust me, can’t you?”
Alyssa winced both at Freddie’s proximity and his use of that nickname. He was the only person she’d ever known to call her ‘Aly’ and she hated it, quite possibly because it was what he chose to call her. Maybe if he’d called her ‘Lyssa’ instead, she would have ended up being an Aly, but the name didn’t seem to fit her, somehow. However, it wasn’t as though she was going to be the one to tell Frederick that actually, nobody called her that. It wasn’t as though she had to put up with it especially often, anyway. “Of course I can, Freddie,” Alyssa replied, lying through her teeth to pacify him. She wouldn’t have trusted Freddie further than she could levitate him, and since her magical ability equalled nothing, that wasn’t very far. But she wanted to stay in his good books, and do what he told her to make her life easier, and that was kind of like trust, in a way, wasn’t it? Didn’t there come a point where fear became trust?
Sighing, Lyssa moved away from the wall so that Frederick could see the words she’d written there. “I saw this spell, it reveals to the caster whether there are people in the same building as them or not,” she explained, picking up the book she’d been using as reference from where she’d dropped it when Freddie had arrived and flicking through until she found the appropriate page again. “I thought it could be adapted to show just muggles or just wizards, except I didn’t know the Latin for ‘wizard’ so I’ve not got that far yet, and therefore it would show where in society people like, uh, me fit in. If it works,” she added as an afterthought, looking up from the book to judge Frederick’s reaction to all this. “Which I’m not sure it will. It…it probably won’t, right? It’s probably way harder than this to create spells that actually do something.”
Frederick Avery a d u l t m i n i s t r y[M:0:12:4:] member is offline
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Re: reality is overrated {freddie} « Reply #5 on Aug 2, 2009, 3:19pm »
There was no room. No room at all. Frederick had quickly scanned his eyes around for a place to sit, and instead was faced with piles of books, files and whatever else Alyssa deemed important enough to warrant it a place on the floor. How she even moved about was a mystery to Freddie, for a step in any direction would lead to papers flying every which way. Were all reporters this unorganised, or was Alyssa simply an exception among her peers? Frederick said peers, but he doubt any of them would feel the same way if they knew the truth – not that they ever would, not as long as he had anything to say on the matter. Then again, the Quibbler was hardly a magazine of a distinguished name. Half the stories it ran were pure nonsense, talking about creatures everyone in their right frame of mind would know didn’t exist. Freddie was much more at home reading The Wizard Report every morning. Now that provided him with clear facts and information he could actually use when planning his day.
Frederick guessed it was rather fitting actually, that Alyssa would choose to work at the Quibbler, instead of a publisher he would consider a bit more high end in the media circle. Freddie didn’t need an unwanted attention looking at the family lineage, and so keeping his sister very much pushed out of the sight of others was, he supposed, for the best. He had long ago been faced with this dilemma; Freddie couldn’t very well keep her hidden under lock and key, for people would ask questions. He did not want people asking questions. Yet placing her in full view of everyone’s scrutinising gaze would surely reveal their secret in due time. Yes, this was the perfect answer - in plain view, but not nearly important enough in Ministry affairs to be of much concern to anyone. It was genius.
It was therefore of upmost importance that Frederick know what Alyssa was up to in all aspects of life, and that included whatever had captured her attention so this evening. Whatever her new little project was, he wanted to know what it was and take an appropriate course of action from that point onwards.
“I saw this spell, it reveals to the caster whether there are people in the same building as them or not. I thought it could be adapted to show just muggles or just wizards, except I didn’t know the Latin for ‘wizard’ so I’ve not got that far yet, and therefore it would show where in society people like, uh, me fit in. If it works,”
So, this was to do with her quest to finds where she belonged again. How often had they gone through this same charade now? Too many to count. Frederick didn’t see why she just couldn’t accept the fact that she didn’t belong anywhere – why was that so hard to bear? Freddie had gotten over this fact, and adapted to it as society and the family name dictated him to. Clearly Alyssa still had a way to go on her own journey. Frederick regarded his sister for some time, looking between her and the wall and back again, until finally deeming it acceptable to speak “Veneficus” he said, in a tone that was difficult to distinguish anything from. It wasn’t often that Freddie aided Alyssa in anything, let alone assist her when she went on one of her ramblings again. “The word you’re looking for is veneficus” he’d used it often enough in his own spells, adapting them to suit his needs on several occasion in the past. His Latin education did come in handy then.
“Which I’m not sure it will. It…it probably won’t, right? It’s probably way harder than this to create spells that actually do something.”
Frederick looked at her coolly, never wavering, “I don’t see what you would know about modifying a spell” he replied at her uncertain question, finally relenting and using his wand to levitate a pile of goodness knows what from one of the chairs and sitting in it. “But who knows” he shrugged, lifting his eyes to meet hers again “It depends on the combination – miracles do happen, after all, and you may actually get this right”
Alyssa Avery a d u l t j o u r n a l i s t[M:0:5:5:] member is offline
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Re: reality is overrated {freddie} « Reply #6 on Aug 2, 2009, 5:41pm »
Alyssa didn’t know what it was, but Frederick had the power to make her feel as though she were a child with just a simple look. Actually, he didn’t even have to look at her; she could feel the disdain rolling off him in waves, and it made her want to hide under her bed, as she had done when he or their father had been in a particularly bad mood. Her whole family had known that all visible wall space in Alyssa’s bedroom had been written on by the time she left to go to school; she didn’t think any of them knew that the few inches under her bed, in the dark where nobody could see, were covered with more frantic scribbles than the rest. She shouldn’t have felt like this, at least not any more; she was twenty-three, for goodness sake, a journalist in her own right and the possibility for promotion within the next couple of years, with a degree under her belt and a whole lot of independence learned from years of having to be there for herself because nobody else was.
She wasn’t, technically, under Freddie’s power; she didn’t live in his house, live off his money or need his permission to do things. And yet she found, however independent and strong she could be on her own, she was still under his power. With him in the room, she was a child; a wrong, shameful child whose whole world could be taken away from her with a few words and a flick of his wand. She couldn’t risk angering her brother, not when she’d worked so hard to get where she was and to have a life she could call her own. What she had…wasn’t that worth feeling like nothing when Frederick was around? Wasn’t living on her own, away from the rule of her father (and consequently, away from her brother now that he was head of the Avery family), worth this fear every once in a while?
Because the fact was, however much she tried to deny it, Alyssa was terrified of Frederick. It took a lot to scare her after what she’d been though, and having made a stand for herself aged twelve, she’d always managed to stand up for herself to everyone else. It had served her well in a job where she had to get stories from people who didn’t want to be interviewed; sometimes, being pushy and not taking no for an answer was a good thing. But with Freddie, she would always be his little sister. He knew things about her nobody else did, and God knew he was holding them over her head. She didn’t even know why it was, but Freddie was scary. Death Eaters she could talk to as if they were ordinary people, using her fraternal connection to scare them away from hurting her. She would talk to important people just the same as she would someone she met on the street, but not her brother. He was the one person she was really scared of. Nobody else knew just how terrifying he could be.
“The word you’re looking for is veneficus”
Lyssa stared at Frederick for a moment, so surprised that he hadn’t said something degrading or sneering, but that he was actually helping her. She offered him a wary half-smile before turning to the wall, writing the word down and stepping back to consider it. “Needs to be accusative,” she muttered, suddenly very unaware of her ‘guest’ in her need to finish what she was doing. She couldn’t help it; she simply had to write these things down before she forgot them, and not even Freddie could stop her when she got into full flow. “It ends in –us so is the second declension, which means the accusative will end in –um.” It had been a long time since Lyssa had studied Latin, meaning that her vocabulary wasn’t especially good, but she apparently had a head for remembering grammar rules, since she could recite things like that in Latin (and indeed French and probably some other languages that she’d now stopped studying) that she’d read years ago. Having been making notes as she talked to herself, Alyssa underlined three phrases – homenum revelio, muggletum revelio and veneficum revelio – twice and turned around, her eyes alighting on Freddie, still watching her, as if seeing him for the first time.
“I don’t see what you would know about modifying a spell.”
“I’ve read books!” Alyssa replied indignantly, looking at Frederick for a moment before dropping her gaze to somewhere among the piles of said books. The truth was, she probably knew a lot more about things like modifying a spell than a lot of wizards did, at least hypothetically. Having been devouring every book about magical theory and practise as she could lay her hands on since she was about ten, Alyssa had an awful lot of knowledge. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything about all the things she’d learned, but she was still on her quest to see if there was a way she could fix that. “I know the theory, anyway, which is more than a lot of people probably know and how hard can it be? It’s just saying the right words in the right order. Technically, one should be able to do absolutely anything with spells, except for conjuring food because that’s one of the exceptions to Gamp’s law, which seems a bit silly because think of all the poverty you could eradicate if you could just create food at will.” Lyssa took a deep breath, and then firmly bit her lip. Her verbal diarrhoea seemed to get even worse than normal around Freddie, probably to do with her desire to prove herself to him, and he probably wasn’t particularly interested in what she had to say, anyway. Not after everything. “It might work, Freddie.”
Frederick Avery a d u l t m i n i s t r y[M:0:12:4:] member is offline
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Re: reality is overrated {freddie} « Reply #7 on Sept 2, 2009, 5:08am »
Freddie didn’t know when this habit had started, didn’t know the moment in time when infrequent visits on his part soon became routine. It wasn’t as if the two siblings held any true affection for one another; playing the part in public came easily enough for the two of them, more so for Freddie for whom deceiving people had always been drilled into him from birth. As their father said, ‘you’ll never get anywhere by being honest’. Frederick had long since given up the notion that his father had been anything but a mindless slave for Voldemort, but he was reminded time and again that there had been golden moments in Aldric Avery’s life where he actually had a wise word to give. Not that his son had taken much notice of him as an adolescent; that was teenage rebellion for you.
Wise words or not, Freddie had learnt from the mistakes of his father – never submit yourself to one individual. It had certainly never ended well in the past, and would only end in misery if Freddie attempted to take that same path. Part of the reason Frederick had been so enthralled by the idea of the Grendel and their existence was the hierarchy that seemed to exist within it – members were elevated due to their service to the group, not due to favours. There was no one man or woman in control, but rather a panel of very different witches and wizards. Even Freddie, who prided himself on generally being in the know when it came to the politics of his world, had no idea who all the Leaders were, nor who half the members consisted of. That was the beauty of it – the group worked on a strictly need to know basis. It was perfect.
With his feet elevated so they were perched on some low-lying table before him, Freddie looked like the very embodiment of the word ‘relaxed’. The idea of stress was appalling to him – only those who couldn’t cope with the world got stressed. Whether it was biology, upbringing or something else entirely, the point came down to the fact that some people in the world were more apt in dealing with difficult situations than others. Not that Freddie liked difficult situations; they were nuisance, and got in his way. The point was he could deal with them. Looking over at his sister, scribbling once again on the wall, Freddie was doubtful whether she was one of those strong ones.
“I’ve read books!”
Frederick merely looked forwards, not deeming it necessary to reply to her sudden outburst. In his eyes she was like a child having a temper tantrum, all in order to receive some sort of response from him. Maybe Squibs didn’t mature as normal people did? Was that it? Freddie slung his head back as Alyssa began talking again, rambling about the theory of something…had he just heard the word lamp? Wait, Gamp. So she was still on this blasted subject; well, Freddie reasoned he might as well humour his younger sibling for a while. Until he got bored, that was. Sitting upright again, planting his feet steadily on the floor, Freddie made a show of leaning forward and looking intently between the wall and Alyssa. “On the flip side of the coin Alyssa, it most likely will not work” his speech pattern was a lot slower than Alyssa’s; he much preferred to make every word count, rather than relying on how many words he could say all without taking a breath. “Your scribbles-” here he nodded toward the wall, his face showing exactly what he thought of her writing. Like a child just given their first set of crayons. “-don’t seem to follow any logical pattern. Or perhaps your mind is just different than the minds of people. Special”. Not other people – just people. It was quite clear in the derogatory manner in which Freddie spoke the last word that it was not meant as anything good.
Alyssa Avery a d u l t j o u r n a l i s t[M:0:5:5:] member is offline
Joined: Jun 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 15 Karma: 9
Re: reality is overrated {freddie} « Reply #8 on Dec 3, 2009, 4:16pm »
Alyssa had never been able to work out why Freddie chose to come and visit her; he clearly looked down on her life – down on her – with a great measure of disdain, if the look on his face practically every time he looked at her was anything to go by (she was reminded of a time when they were both very young, before all this had started, before there had been nothing but animosity between them, when she’d accidentally-on-purpose pushed him into the pond – his face when he’d emerged, covered in mud and frogspawn, was remarkably similar to the one he wore when he looked at her life), and they weren’t close. They hadn’t been close in years. He let her keep the family name and therefore the connections that came with it, the Averys still holding a lot of weight despite the change in times and the change in fortunes, but that was it. Frederick didn’t give her anything else. Lyssa knew that he would make her beg before he gave her anything else, and as such, it was a damn good thing that she didn’t want anything from him. She didn’t even want this much from her brother; Lyssa wished that he would leave her alone and let her live her life the way she wanted to, rather than the way he decreed suitable. Who was he to tell her what she should be doing? She was an adult, after all, a highly intelligent (if, she admitted, slightly crazy) one at that; she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions – and yes, her own mistakes – without her magic-having brother breathing down her neck the whole time. She’d learned to fend for herself long after he was still being spoilt by mummy and daddy.
It was about power; Alyssa knew that. She knew that her brother loved the fact that she turned to a quivering ball of jelly around him, for no reason that she could fathom (and she had tried), and that she would do almost anything to make him think well of her, even when it was clear that not only were they not on the same wavelength, they were on completely different frequencies too. A lot of the time, Alyssa had power; she knew what she wanted, and okay, so maybe she said a little too much in order to get there, but she usually managed to get what she wanted. She wasn’t intimidated by people, even those who were either physically bigger than her, given that – apparently – she looked like something akin to a twig or socially…apart from where Freddie was concerned. Freddie intimidated her. Freddie made her feel like she was five, and something he could squash with his foot. Freddie—he had his own set of rules. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t cut him out of her life completely. She needed a family; Alyssa didn’t have anybody else. And whatever he said to her, he did respect that they were family, even if his methods were slightly…unorthodox. And really, wasn’t family all that you had, even if they’d made your life hell?
“Your scribbles don’t seem to follow any logical pattern. Or perhaps your mind is just different than the minds of people. Special”.
It was true that Lyssa saw things that other people didn’t – patterns, particularly in words and phrases, things that might tie in to something seemingly unrelated…she saw them, but it didn’t mean that she was special, not in the way that Freddie had meant it. “It’s very logical,” she said, turning to look at the wall; didn’t he see it? The connections, the little threads that tied the writing together – did he really see nothing but a jumble of words. “You just need to look and listen. Look and listen.” She wasn’t expecting him to listen to her, though; he never did. He patronised her and humoured her, but Alyssa couldn’t remember a time after her eleventh birthday when Freddie had ever really listened to what she had to say. It was a shame, she though, because given the right subject matter, she was sure that they could have an interesting discussion – if she let him get a word in edgeways. But they wouldn’t, of course; Freddie didn’t understand. He never did. He didn’t understand her, or her life, or how she hated herself when he was around; he was the sort of person who saw the world as he wanted to see it, rather than the way it really was. “Look and listen.” she repeated, waving her pen at a point on the wall where she’d written that before. Over and over, like she was writing lines. Look and listen, look and listen. Maybe someday she’d see the connection, or hear the ‘click’ in her mind.
“Tea!” she said, turning suddenly and fixing Frederick with a wary smile. If he had something to drink, maybe he’d forget to look at the wall and therefore forget to prod her about the things written on it – because without distraction, he was bound to pick up on something or other. He always did; Freddie was predictable that way. She headed off towards her kitchen, stepping over books as she went. “I’ll make some tea.”
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