It had been a long time since Damien Graves was on babysitting duty and fell asleep on the job. He was sprawled over the small hospital chair with little Basil asleep on him as well. He was in deep sleep when he heard a stir from his sister and he jolted awake, somehow not waking his nephew.

"Hey-" He said blearily to his now awake sister, quieting his voice. "Hey, how do you feel?"

@hopcflowered

❝ how long have you been lurking? ❞ from tempest / @rebuildeds

"Hardly." Quips Damien. He never quite knew how to talk to Tempest after Penelope died, he adored Penelope and now she was gone too - just like Rowan. "I just got back weeks ago, I've barely returned and there has already been another conflict. Forgive me for wanting to stay in the shadows a bit longer."

Meme Night!

GET TO KNOW THE PEOPLE IN MY MUSE’S LIFE

& WEDNESDAY SENTENCE STARTERS

He didn't even mean to be here, did not even want to be here. A part of him felt responsible even if he held no fault. What was he to do, go to each hospital room and apologize? He highly doubted that's something they would want to hear. He was very nearly about to up and leave until he heard Antigone's voice. They had very brief interactions before, but he remembers her. "I promise." He holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "Hardly could doubt you for that, you - uh, alright?"

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  ( outside ) st mungo's hospital, london  !

"don't tell on me," it's a simple thing, that request. almost laughable, at their age, but antigone has been subject to the whims of everyone but herself for the past week and as childish as it sounds, it's about what this amounts to - the difference between temporary freedom and a stuffy, private room that she has been forced to stand despite the discomfort that goes all the way down to bone boils down to whether her new companion feels inclined to tattle. she's not doing much. it's obvious she's not meant to be there, hunkered down on a stone bench in her dressing gown, hours past visiting and past the gardens being a warm and welcoming retreat, but anything is better than inside. she tells them, voice small, "i just wanted some fresh air. i'm not a flight risk. promise," and uses a bandaged hand to cross her heart. where would she go? the funny thing about loss is how it leaves you only wanting the person you'll never be able to run to again.

"Not a half bad one either, if I say so." Damien crosses his arms and laughs, though he says nothing particularly funny. "Glad to help, it's what I'm doing with my own never ending piles of books. Need others to join in my misery as well." He heaves a sigh as he picks up his own book. "A man stuck in a cage of his own making, struggling to get out while everyone else around him goes on as normal." A bit on the nose if you knew him.

"out of everyone i could ask, it had to be an author, didn't it?" paxton's lips pull into a crooked grin before peering at the tattered book - it was well read at least, perhaps it could be a page turner. at least it could be a distraction. "thanks. anything to add to the neverending list of books, i suppose." they pause, chewing on their bottom lip before gesturing to the book the other put down. "what's your book about?"

"Moira?" Damien barely has the time to register who had nearly run into him before she starts speaking again. He extends his hands out to her to steady her on instinct. Damien's relationship with his siblings was always teetering on a thin rope, at least to him, since his arrival ( the second time ). Unexpectedly running into his sister threw him off greatly. "Um, hm - what's wrong? Where's Basil?"

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: diagon alley, outside of sugarplum's sweet shop !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: open ( @startertms ) !!

days were tickng by until basil's sixth birthday and with the chaos of illness, the charity match attack and work, poor moira had yet to pick up any gifts for him. stepping out onto the cobbles of diagon alley, the faux blonde has to steady herself before she walks into the path of a passerby. raising her free hand, moira rubs at her tired eyes - she had barely gotten two hours sleep a night lest she be worrying or caring for her son - before checking the cobbles once again. "i need a nap, and i need it now."

"Likely so." Damien has every intention of walking away from the conversation, until his attention gets drawn to the window display by Dudley. "This display would be wrecked if they were real, most of them are destructive. I can't imagine they would willingly stay in a display case, on their best behavior."

“ soon we'll be choking on them. ” dudley says offhand, for lack of something better to contribute to the conversation, as his attention stays solely on the possible pixies in the window display. a hand comes up to the glass as he tries to remember the photos from the textbook he'd skimmed through years ago, tries to remember whether these particular creatures are classified as dangerous at all. he flinches, moving back away, when one of the moving parts in the display presses back. “ oh. i think they might be fake. what d'you reckon? ”

Damien chuckles and holds up his own book. "Suppose I can't say myself?" He puts the book he wrote in his time in France down, then shrugs. "One on the right?"

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: flourish and blotts, interior !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: open to all !!

paxton had been away for over two weeks, an escape for a troubled mind in the highlands of scotland, only getting back in the early hours of the morning. it was evident that he hadn't slept, the bags under his eyes growing darker with each step he takes around the book shop - he was searching for a new read, something to keep him from the nightmares that he succumbed to in his slumber. holding two novels in his hands, the obliviator looks to the nearest person before accosting them. "which do you prefer?"

The reply silences him fast, a Herculean feat if you know Damien. Luca clearly wants to be as far away as possible from him, so he never crossed. He stayed stiff, the only movement was his hand shaking with anxiety and regret. "It wasn't easy, Luca. I thought it was better if I went away, disappeared. If you had known what had happened, I thought...you wouldn't want me around anymore. I'm sorry for that, I am." He's said those words before to her, he hardly wanted the pity or sympathy he just wished for the day that saying those words doesn't make him cringe. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"i didn't die," comes clipped reply, a little too fast to be anything but instinct. she's not actually trying to argue with him, though you wouldn't know it - brows permanently knitted together, lips twisted downward, she stands as far back from him as the room allows, her back pressed painfully against the counter top and her hands gripping at the ledge of it. they've already done all that, and luca doesn't know how much more she has in her. she can't be angry at him, anymore. all that does is hurt, and she's already done plenty of that because of exactly what she's getting at. "it just... must've been easy, for you. to keep loving. i didn't get to do that. i had to put it away, or else..." she'd have gone absolutely mad. there's nothing to it, but that. she NEEDED to let him go, back then, and the problem now is how she only ever managed to half do it. "it was after. before... i didn't think there was a single thing you could do to make me hate you, then."

do you think rowan would support you in the way you're living your life, now?

"Yes, surprisingly. Think she always just wanted me happy, she wanted to move to France with me all her life. She never had it in her to do so when I disappeared, didn't want to leave me by myself whether I was alive or dead. So yes, she would support me - she would be pissed that I hurt Luca the way I did. That she would never support or forgive."

what's your werewolf alibi for the charity game?

"Fucking hate quidditch, honestly. All sports are boring and the epitome of tedious nonsense."

If this were a movie, he would just slap himself awake and he can go back to his life. Back to his life, free from his dead father's last hurrah of making him miserable. His black sweater feels too heavy on him, it's clinging on his skin so he rips it off and leaves the white t-shirt on underneath. He looks up at the bottle of bourbon and manages a small smile.

"Fuck knows I do." He gently takes it and opens it, takes a small swig of it. He slowly gets himself up and looks up at the house, staring at the front door. "Do you...Can you come in with me?"

it's a kindness she wouldn't give many others. a testament to their past, really, more than a promise to the future - luca struggles to fathom forgiveness, but she doesn't really need to cross that particular line to feel for him, now. it's bad enough to lose a parent. even a bad one. they leave their bruises all the same and their loss, however it comes, presses them down until they feel all fresh again. the house just makes it so much worse. she knows all about that, too.

"yeah, well..." absently kicking up some dirt, she looks away from the blackened windows to properly take him in, glad, for once, to have thought ahead. she continues only after pulling out the bottle of cheap bourbon taken from the leaky basement, "i didn't have to bring this, either, but you look like you need it."

Meme Night ! Accepting honesty hour!

This should not have been as difficult as it was, just to walk into his own house. He skipped his father's funeral, as many did as he later found out, but this he couldn't ignore. For reasons he cannot fathom, Damien's childhood home was left entirely in his name. He arrived to the old, damned house nearly an hour ago and has been sitting on the steps leading up to the patio ever since.

His head is in his hands, for so long there's probably a mark, but when he hears footsteps he doesn't have to look up to see who it is.

"You didn't have to come, Luca."

@woesbegone

"Defeats the purpose of an advice column, if you don't want to hear the advice." Damien shrugs, knowing the kind of odd feedback writers tend to get - though, he's been lucky that nobody has ever tried to approach him publically. "Do you mind me asking what your column is meant to be about?"

a loud sigh pushes passed her lips. it wasn't as if she had the best reputation as an advisor for personal problems, but getting dressed down in the middle of diagon alley was far from what she expects. "why write into an advice column if you don't want to take said advice?" maeve huffs as she faces him, frustration over the situation catching up with her. "plus why ask an advice column about your arse? go to a doctor."

❛ you look different. ❜ @monstrovs

"You look like shit." The retort is instant, he doesn't even look at Niko to know it was him - or how he looked. It had been mere days since Damien returned, he doesn't even bother asking how Niko figured out he returned. "Think that's a new record, how fast you've found me. And made yourself comfortable in my flat."

❛ i loved you. by god, i loved you. but sometimes i... hated you.❜ @woesbegone

The statement lingers in the air for a moment, he allows it to, before Damien smiles. Not a bitter smile, not an spiteful one, one of nostalgia and one of sadness. It takes him a long moment before he meets her eyes. "I always loved you." He remembers the ring that sat on top of a box in his closet, along with every other memory he didn't have time to process. "Did you hate me before or after I...left?"