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 colour crimson, edwina
edward m. flint
 Posted: Nov 19 2016, 08:17 AM
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© eddie // Offline

237 POSTS
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Color crimson in my eyes Wanted to could free my mind This is how it ends I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream
Be better. He had to be better. It had looped through his mind like a mantra as he emptied the bottle into the sink, as he fought through the urge to go straight down the road and replace it. It had turned him around two hundred metres down the street on the way to the Knotty Bit. There was always an open tap there. That was the problem.

It had been harder to listen after dark. Even more difficult when he found sleep would not come. He got out of bed and put on a coat, walking the streets until the early hours of the morning when his legs ached enough to distract him once he'd lain down again.

The sun had come up mere hours later and the mantra was back, except it was beginning to sound more like a sentence than an encouragement. He made it through a full day of work, but the combination of coffee and withdrawal meant that his fingers were shaking. He knew just what would fix that. He went walking along the river, a poor substitute.

He considered going back to his apartment. He knew he wouldn't stay there if he did. He considered going to Sonny's, but he didn't want her seeing him like this. He didn't want to tell her why, lest he failed like he had done every time, brief strides of determination before he remembered that he was weak. He went to somewhere he knew there was no longer expectation - perhaps there was a pillar or two left standing of the bridge he'd burned. He knocked on the door with trembling fingers and forced himself not to run before it opened.


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sabrina m. lestrange
 Posted: Nov 21 2016, 08:12 AM
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© Brina // Offline

82 POSTS
auror
PUREBLOOD
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ERIN


now there's gravel in our voices

A sigh of irritation accompanied the quiet pop of Sabrina's appearance in the hall of her flat, and a quick jab of her wand sent her auror's robes obediently floating down the stairs toward the hamper as she moved away from the entry. It had been a day full of paperwork and meetings, and of course the incessant smirking of her... partner (she still loathed using that word). They were running out of names to follow up on, and running out of trees to shake.

After the bickering of the day the quiet of her flat was bliss, and a little tension eased from her posture with each step. It wasn't the sort of pure silence that drove her into her thoughts – she could hear little clanks from the pots in the kitchen, and from the tantalizing aroma drifting out Koffy was nearly finished with supper. All was well.

Her hand was on the narrow banister of the stairway up to her study when she heard the knock, and a frown crossed her face. She wasn't expecting company – and anyway about the only people who would show up to visit her that she could think of were her mother (who wouldn't knock), Lina (who would probably already be inside pouring them something out of a bottle), or... Pierce, with something irritating that he hadn't managed to get in at the office.

The thought deepened her frown into a scowl as she strode back to the door, but she stopped to check through the peephole first and couldn't stop a brief, surprised exhale. She hadn't seen him since that interview in the muggle world, and she could safely say that it hadn't gone a long way toward fixing things between them. For a moment, she thought about leaving the door shut and going back to her study. Koffy would have a mulled cider ready with a moment's thought, she could forget that she'd ever heard that knock.

That smacked of cowardice, though.

Her lips pressed together, but she opened the door, filling it with her frame rather than moving aside to let him in. He looked... more anxious than angry, which made her curious... but no less wary.

“...what do you want, Mr. Flint?” Brina's voice halted just a fraction on the name, wanting to drop the formality out of habit but not quite willing to let down that wall.

glass is shattered from the fight
{{duds}} eeee it's been forever since we've done these two
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edward m. flint
 Posted: Nov 27 2016, 03:24 AM
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© eddie // Offline

237 POSTS
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Color crimson in my eyes Wanted to could free my mind This is how it ends I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream
It hadn't been all that long since he'd seen Sabrina, but it felt like half a lifetime ago that she'd been in the cafe with that toss-pot hit wizard drilling him on questions. Remembering it nearly turned him on his heel, hair-trigger ready that he was to leave. He could only assume that it had been those questions that had led to the incident with Dracul, and to Dominque getting hurt. He'd barely seen her since then, another person out of his life. She was better off without him.

The name burned like a brand, reminders, everywhere there were reminders of what had been - what he had been and what he no longer was, and dammit would it ever not hurt to think of? He'd never been entirely sure if he'd wanted that name, but still, it had been his and it had been his future even if it didn't have a past that he wanted to claim. It was his history and his plans and it was his sisters and it wasn't his anymore. Sabrina knew that too, and in other circumstances he might have understood entirely why she threw it at him, but right now he didn't have the capacity to be sympathetic.

"I needed help, but I'll find it elsewhere" he said curtly - it was easier to be rude than to be honest. He didn't need to search far for an out, his resolve was as trembling as his hands. He didn't want help, he wanted the drink that he knew would chase away this aching in his body and this guilt in his mind.



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sabrina m. lestrange
 Posted: Nov 27 2016, 05:20 AM
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© Brina // Offline

82 POSTS
auror
PUREBLOOD
26
ERIN


now there's gravel in our voices

Her knuckles whitened around the edge of the door as her fingers reacted to the flash of anger his words inspired and clenched the magically-reinforced wood with all they had. How dare he. She ought to have expected it, she supposed, given how he'd treated her in the hospital, given his animosity in the coffee shop. If she wasn't painfully aware of precisely what consequences it would unleash, she'd take him in then and there. It would be easy enough to find charges, easy enough to get them to take her word over his – and impossible to undo the damage when her temper passed. She knew that, but it didn't stop the urge from flaring as his words struck her like a slap in the face.

“...so you came all the way up here to... what, gloat in the fact that you still don't want my help?” Brina tried – oh she tried – to veil the heat of her anger with cool, unimpressed disdain, but he had such a knack for finding just the right nerve to strike. Perhaps it wasn't worth the effort. It might be cathartic to add a hex or a black eye to his state.

Why had he come to her, of all people? He'd made himself abundantly clear before this – he didn't want her help. She'd tried. She'd saved his bloody ingrate life, for one. She'd given exactly zero shits about the giant dog-breath stigma he was snarled in, and gone to prove that to him – he'd spat in her face then, too. Even when she'd tried to warn him that the Ministry's attention was falling on him again, that her bloody partner had found his name and wasn't going to let it go – even then, he'd been the one to put distance between them.

Once hexed, twice shy – and this was thrice. What did he expect, for her to melt because he looked too pathetic to be worth the fight?

“Go, then. Though since you're already here, I doubt you have many more doors to knock on.” He could leave, or he could bloody well earn her forgiveness. She wasn't going to beg him to drag his obvious troubles into her life again.

glass is shattered from the fight
{{duds}} shoulda brought some flowers or booze or something @edward m. flint
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edward m. flint
 Posted: Dec 1 2016, 07:33 AM
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© eddie // Offline

237 POSTS
waste of space
WEREWOLF
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Color crimson in my eyes Wanted to could free my mind This is how it ends I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream
Something like that, it was on the tip of his tongue. Snipe back and walk away... but then that would be it. And he knew what would happen then, because it was what he always did. No, he didn't always make it to this point, but he told himself that he could control himself, that he didn't heed help because he didn't have a problem and then he found himself reaching for the bottle as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning because it was easier to face the day with a little something to take the edge of. Just a little, that was all, but then again from his bag at work because he couldn't wait until lunch or until close, merlin no.

So instead of leaving he swallowed, whole body tensed to run as he fought the instincts telling him to do it. He wondered again if Sabrina was the right one for this. But she was right. He didn't have anywhere else to turn. He'd never had all that many friends, not people he cared for in the true sense of the word and who cared for him - and he'd thoroughly wrecked most of those he did have in the last few months, methodically, deliberately setting tinder under bridges and watching them burn. He'd done it to this one too, fanned the flames with his bitterness and anger and convinced himself that it was just.

"You're right, I don't. But I need help" the last few words caught in his throat, trying to choke him. Pride, it seemed, stuck around until the last, even when you thought it was long gone. There was still enough to make this impossible to say. It was so difficult to admit how broken he was aloud, especially to her. "You're perfectly entitled to tell me to fuck off. But I do need your help." he repeated, thinking wrongly that it might be a little easier the second time.



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sabrina m. lestrange
 Posted: Dec 5 2016, 06:44 AM
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© Brina // Offline

82 POSTS
auror
PUREBLOOD
26
ERIN


now there's gravel in our voices

She thought he was going to, for a moment. The thought gave her no satisfaction – far from it, in fact. Instead she was furious that he still knew just how to get under her skin, furious with herself for not patching that chink in her armor by now. Hadn't she learned that lesson thoroughly enough?

But instead... she watched him fight the urge to keep up their recent pattern, saw the tension as stubbornness warred with what she could only assume was desperation. She wasn't holding out hope that it was trust that brought him here.

I need help. Sabrina bit back the obviously that sprang to her lips, recognizing that there were more words to come. There was a certain eerie there-but-for-a-twist-of-fate-go-I quality to his outreach, and if she removed herself from her anger and withdrew into unfeeling logic... she could still see the similarities in them that had once been a channel of understanding. Merlin, there had been a time that he'd known her better than anyone – better than she'd wanted him to. Now they had... this.

If she'd wanted an apology, that damn well wasn't it. But it was... something. It was different from what she'd grown used to from him, anyway – and there was some admission, at least, in his acknowledgment that she had no obligation to help him.

So. What was the worth of vengeance, and what was the cost of charity?

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she dropped her hand from the doorframe, and shifted a few inches to the side, just enough to give him space to come through.

“...come in before I change my mind.” Even as she said it, Sabrina knew it was half bluff. She wasn't fickle enough to dangle the prospect of help in front of him and change her mind without good reason. That didn't mean she would – or could – help him, but at least she'd give him a fair hearing.

glass is shattered from the fight
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edward m. flint
 Posted: Dec 20 2016, 08:21 AM
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© eddie // Offline

237 POSTS
waste of space
WEREWOLF
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Color crimson in my eyes Wanted to could free my mind This is how it ends I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream
Edward appreciated that she hadn't said 'told you so', and even more that she hadn't told him to bugger off. She would have had every right to, after all. He still didn't know how he felt about Sabrina and the things that had transpired at and after the convention, but he was conscious enough of the bridges he'd burned to know that he hadn't done anything to warrant her assistance. He wasn't sure that he wanted it, perhaps, but he definitely knew he didn't deserve it.

And yet she stepped aside and let him in anyway without even knowing what he was asking, and it occurred to him, just for a moment before it disappeared again, that perhaps he had been entirely too harsh on her these last months. But the thought was quickly swallowed again by his misery at having to be here at all.

The full moon was coming, else he thought he might have been able to manage without stooping to this, begging for assistance from ruined friendships. He'd taken his wolfsbane like a good little house-dog and he still had two nights until he turned, but the days leading up were still hard. One of his primary motivations for drinking was to quiet the world and there were no times that it was louder than at this time of the month.

He walked past her into the familiar house, feeling out of place in a way he had never used to. But he used to have a place like this of his own, ostentatious and assuming, the townhouse had been all but his - would have been his now, and Vivian's, if everything had gone to plan - so he'd never thought twice of the nature of these houses until he was no longer among it. Now it merely made him conscious of the scrag of his beard and the mess of his clothes. He stood awkwardly, just down the hall, far enough into the house that she could no longer easily shut him out, but not an inch further.



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sabrina m. lestrange
 Posted: Jan 2 2017, 03:18 AM
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© Brina // Offline

82 POSTS
auror
PUREBLOOD
26
ERIN


now there's gravel in our voices

She didn't say anything as he moved past, the silence between them palpable and uncomfortable but... familiar. This was them, now – angry words, stiff distance, like cats in an alley circling the scrap of tuna that used to be their friendship,wondering who would finally take that last bite. She didn't allow herself to regret it any more, or at least she hadn't before he turned up on her doorstep out of the bloody blue and picking at that scar.

Out of habit, she scanned the hallway for any sign that her guest's presence had been noticed. The building had more than its share of privacy charms – she suspected no one was particular eager to acknowledge that they had neighbors, let alone indulge the nosier among them – but these days she found herself toying with paranoia, enough so that she let out a little sigh when she shut the door on the empty hall.

“You know the way.” Sabrina addressed her words to the solid paneling of her front door, feeling his presence still in the small foyer. She slid the bolt on her door, locking the charms that came with it back into place as she turned and took the stairs up to to the flat proper. He'd been here before, so she didn't offer him direction, just moved on toward the larger room on the main floor, carefully ignoring the silvery light of the moon painting her otherwise dark terrace.

...it wasn't full yet. She knew that. It was close, though – they'd had the usual smattering of early warning reports, petty incidents that usually wound up on other desks. Did that have something to do with him showing up here now?

Sabrina rubbed at the bridge of her nose with another sigh as she passed by the archway to the kitchen, willing herself to stop guessing. He'd tell her what sort of help he needed, eventually. In the meantime...

“Koffy, I suppose that had better be cider for two,” she said grudgingly, pacing instead of taking advantage of her couch. It was easier to argue standing, she found – and that was bound to happen, since it was them.

glass is shattered from the fight
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edward m. flint
 Posted: Jan 14 2017, 07:49 AM
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© eddie // Offline

237 POSTS
waste of space
WEREWOLF
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Color crimson in my eyes Wanted to could free my mind This is how it ends I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream
He took her instruction begrudgingly and they trekked through the house and to the main floor. The house felt unfamiliar even though nothing had changed. Then again, his own skin didn't even feel like his own, why should anything feel right anymore?

While Sabrina made no move to sit down, Edward did not have the energy to pace. Just maintaining the illusion that he was not falling apart at the seams was exhausting. He dropped to the couch, perched on the edge as if ready to run at a moment's notice, elbows on knees and face in his hands. His palms against his eyes made the room dark and almost peaceful - the charms around the house quietened it from the noise outside, although Sabrina's footsteps echoed in his head, as did the ministrations of her house elf in the kitchen, the ticking of the clock... it was all very loud when he was this sober.

He looked up from his hands as she called out to the house elf, panic and temptation battling in his eyes for a moment. "No, just water please" he said, an entirely insignificant sentence that felt like a marathon win. Would every decision he made feel so successful and so utterly pathetic? He couldn't sustain this level of deliberation forever. Perhaps when his fingers stopped trembling and the headache subsided, then perhaps it would feel less piteous.


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sabrina m. lestrange
 Posted: Jan 20 2017, 06:42 AM
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© Brina // Offline

82 POSTS
auror
PUREBLOOD
26
ERIN


now there's gravel in our voices

Merlin. He looked... exhausted. Maybe she'd even go so far as to say... skittish? There was something... she couldn't quite place it, but her instincts wouldn't ease. Something was different, but it had been long enough that she couldn't quite pick it out.

Hmph. Maybe she was just tired.

Surprise did cross her face at his refusal, but she didn't speak up, knowing the house elf would hear without her involvement and adjust the request accordingly. Sure enough, a gently steaming mug smelling of autumn spices (it might have been a bit early in the year for cider, but the year would just have to get over it) appeared on the corner of the table nearest to Brina, and a glass of water materialized in front of Eddie.

“...you've looked better.” Her frown was as close as she was willing to get to concern, for now. Picking up her mug, feeling the heat seep through the ceramic into her fingers – that helped, but this still felt like uncharted territory, and she didn't like not knowing what to expect.

“So.” Brina punctuated her brief statement with a slow swallow of cider, eyeing her unexpected guest through little wisps of steam. “What sort of help, exactly?”

glass is shattered from the fight
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edward m. flint
 Posted: Apr 2 2017, 09:52 AM
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© eddie // Offline

237 POSTS
waste of space
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Color crimson in my eyes Wanted to could free my mind This is how it ends I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream
He'd felt better too, that was for sure. The world felt like it was scraping under his skin like glass, the same way it always did when the full moon was approaching, everything heightened but not in any kind of useful sense of the word. Instead it just seemed overwhelming - he felt overwhelmed. He didn't know how to sleep, how to eat properly, how to function without something to drown it out.

"Distraction, ideally. A thorough lecture to keep me preoccupied" he said with a harsh chuckle that had not an ounce of humour to it. He might have sounded drunk if the words didn't sound so heavy. He should have listened to her lectures back in the hospital. Perhaps if he had he wouldn't find himself so deep in this hole that he wasn't sure how he was ever going to climb out. Perhaps she should have listened to his and then he wouldn't be trapped that way either, with a lunar timebomb constantly ticking in his mind. Anger died a slow death it seemed - there was still bitterness there, although it had faded enough that it didn't taint everything he said to her.

"Allison showed up on my doorstep. I never want her to see me and think of father" he said, more to himself than to Brina. He picked up the glass because it felt good to at least have a drink in hand, water or no. He wasn't sure how much Brina knew - she had probably guessed more of his history than he would like. Sonny had said that he wasn't like their father but he didn't know if he could believe her, not while he couldn't control himself. That had always been the hallmark of Marcus Flint, broken capillaries and a lack of control.


outfit // @erin // omg i thought i was waiting on you for this
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sabrina m. lestrange
 Posted: May 17 2017, 04:16 AM
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© Brina // Offline

82 POSTS
auror
PUREBLOOD
26
ERIN


now there's gravel in our voices

Distraction. She felt a bitter laugh try to claw its way out of her throat and quickly drowned it with another gulp. They were so, so far away from distraction, from small talk. All she had to offer was work, these days – and that wasn't a distraction for him. Hell, she'd seen him more recently staring at her from photographs in her files than she had in person, and dredging all that up... no.

The cider usually took the edge off, but Brina could feel the tension running through her neck and shoulders, the muscles refusing to let go as if all her careful emotional armor was a physical weight they were straining to hold up. She tried not to grimace, hiding her stretch in a shrug and a shake of her head, her jaw still tight.

“...I'm all out of lectures.” Maybe. Maybe she was just too tired, or too stubborn, or who knew. She wanted to sneer that he would only ignore it anyway, but she knew that was just childishness. Old wounds made fresh.

Family, though. Much as she would have liked to cling to her venom, that guilt, that need to be something better than a father – that ran deep, maybe deeper than bitterness, at least for the moment. Her lips twisted, her eyes slipped to the glass of water and back, and one little knot of resentment wormed its way free in a real sigh. She knew better than to toss out little platitudes, like posters bright-eyed first years might paste up on their walls. Merlin knew he wouldn't have come to her if he wanted bright.

“...well.” She was quiet, staring at the coffee table between them as if it held the answers ingrained in its surface. “...I don't know your father. Not well, anyway.” Her eyes still held anger when they finally lifted back to his face, but it wasn't just anger now – there was something like sincerity, too. “...from what I do know, though... I can't say I'd expect to find him on anyone's doorstep wanting to do better.” Biscuit for him, and all that blah blah. Eddie might have been many frustrating things, might have that capacity for cruelty when he put his mind to it – but the Eddie she knew (or had known, anyway) didn't relish that.

”...she must not think that of you either, if she's breaking the disowning edict.”

glass is shattered from the fight
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edward m. flint
 Posted: May 21 2017, 03:33 AM
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© eddie // Offline

237 POSTS
waste of space
WEREWOLF
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Colour crimson in my eyes Wanted to could free my mind This is how it ends I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream
He didn't speak about his parents much to anyone, even to Brina when they had been close, and she often had the same inhibitions, but they were both marked by their surnames if nothing else. His grandfather might not have been one of the closest lieutenants of He Who Must Not be Named, but he had done enough that he had died in Azkaban all the same. The Lestrange name was infamous for the involvement its carriers had. There was no denying the histories they shared.

Of course, that dark past wasn't the reason he kept his secrets about his childhood, but it all stemmed from the same place. That anger, that violence, that darkness that ran through the family line, and the direction it had taken when his father had finished his sentence and no longer had a cause to project it too, nor the wherewithal to find one bigger than their home.

"Well now that has to be first" he said, a ghost of a smile in his voice. He glanced up at her briefly as he said it, and back down almost as quickly when he found the last lecture she'd given him hanging between them. He knew it was rich of him, showing up here after the way he'd treated her. He still wasn't sure that he agreed with her decision, but he no longer blamed her for it. He wouldn't have listened to her, had the tables been turned.

"She's just never known what's good for her, that's all", turning the glass in his hand and watching the shifts it created across the surface. He still wasn't entirely certain that her appearance had been for the sake of defying their parents just as much as it had been to see him. The thought made him uncomfortable. They weren't good people - he didn't like the thought of Sonny putting herself in their sights.


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