Author Topic:  [tarragona] fragile as a dream. [tag; sylvester]  (Read 228 times)

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  • Offline Jessica Smith
  • [tarragona] fragile as a dream. [tag; sylvester]
    « on: April 12, 2018, 07:03:08 PM »
    Jessica wasn't meant to be here.

    This happened every single year, though. Without fail, the Ministry made her take two weeks off. Why? Because she never took holidays. She didn't particularly like the beach, so summer holidays sort of lost their shine. She'd broken her leg when she was younger on a skiing holiday, so she didn't really like winter ones, either. Each time, she fought to stay. Jess liked to keep busy, she thought it was better for her. She liked routine. It made sense for her to keep to it to keep her healthy. She didn't think that she'd be the type to burn out but with her complete nervous breakdown three years previous, she was slowly starting to rebuild herself. She was not the same woman that she used to be and while that was a wonderful thing, it took some getting used to.

    The only place that she'd consider being parcelled off to was Vid Del Castillo, her family's vineyard. Up high in the Catalan mountains of Spain, the air was fresh and the climate was hot. It was spring everywhere else but up here, summer had arrived. Since her brother's wedding, Jessica had rediscovered a link to her heritage. Her family, though surprised, were glad to see her when she turned up with a backpack.

    It didn't take long for her to pick up the rapid pace of her almost-forgotten second language and she felt herself smiling. Country life wasn't really her thing. In fact, it had taken her two days to get used to how still the nights were here. In London, car horns and the trundle of traffic acted like a sort of lullaby but here, everything was tranquil. The air was so fresh, too. Dry and warm, she looked less worn out. Her father's English genes had taken care of her pale skin that was now tanned but her mother's side provided her with her dark curls and fiery temperament.

    It was only around eleven in the morning. After collecting eggs from the hens (called Poach, Scramble and Florentine) Jessica decided to go for a wander. The sun was high in the sky, dotted only with a few wisps of cotton wool like clouds. Dressed casually, her long bare legs wandered through the pristine rows of the vineyards as Emilio, the Belgian Sheepdog, gambolled in front of her. Emilio was her grandfather's dog and he was still going strong, the only signs of his age were the flecks of grey in his muzzle and his terrible hearing. Still, he was sprightly, happily weaving in and out of the sticks that supported the fat black grapes, wagging his tail very hard.

    London seemed so many miles away. She'd be here for the next two weeks and honestly, it couldn't have come at a better time. Things between her and Evander hadn't worked out, for obvious reasons. Not to mention his mother was a colossal bitch. They just didn't fit. They had chemistry no doubt but no future. She'd like to be friends but once someone had seen her naked, she wasn't exactly keen to have a catch up over coffee. The Healer hadn't made any contact with her and being in the middle of nowhere, she was sure he wouldn't be able to.

    As she walked her way back down to the farmhouse, her slim fingers ran through the large vine leaves, pleased and proud that the vineyard was still thriving. It was doing well and it would still be doing well without the help of magic, she was convinced. Jessica didn't drink any more, much to her grandfather's disappointment but she didn't need to down a glass to realise that this year's crop would be just as good, if not better, than the last.

    It was just nice to be in the sun for a change. The winter was long in the city and she was determined to leave everything behind. At least half way up a mountain, there wouldn't be anything to annoy her --

    Popping up from the crest of the hill was a familiar head of dark hair and Jessica froze on the spot. In a split second, she wanted to run away but she was wearing a stripy blue dress and there was no where to hide. Emilio bounded over and licked the man's hand, waiting patiently for a pat on the head before he yipped happily and headed back towards the house. Traitor Jess though darkly, wishing she could have the same sort of freedom as the dog as he ran off. The familiar sense of righteous anger bubbled up, hot and dark as she looked at him. How long had it been since she'd last seen him? A year? Two? Frustratingly, he still looked well.

    What the Hell was he doing in her part of Spain? It was so remote that she had no idea how or why he'd shown up here. She wanted to scream. Instead, she plastered a rather tense smile on her face he drew closer. "Sylvester," she greeted her ex-boyfriend in what she hoped was a welcoming tone but to her own ears sounded rather squeaky and restrained. "Are you lost?" She asked, unable to fight the sarcasm that wanted to escape her throat.



    [member=25435]Sylvester Walker[/member]

  • Offline Sylvester Walker
  • Re: [tarragona] fragile as a dream. [tag; sylvester]
    « Reply #1 on: April 28, 2018, 02:09:30 PM »
    Coming directly from Melbourne, where summer heat was at its peak, winter in Spain seemed, while not as chilly as London, quite cold. February was a tricky month for every Mediterranean country, and this exotic one (to him, who was from the opposite side of the world, quite literally) was still rather chilly. Despite the sun shining, the oceanic breeze being refreshing and somewhat warm, it was still cold. Winter in Spain was still winter. Just like Italy.

    However, it was much better to visit now than when it was summer. Having experienced several summers in Italy, he had a good idea of how those were in the Mediterranean. Hence why, Sylvester took the obviously correct decision of looking for estates in Spain during its winter, no matter how uncomfortable the winter chill made his visit. During the past week, the Australian had spent a lot of time visiting manors in Spain, later on deciding with his personal assistant that they should also visit actual lands, as nothing had suited Sylvester’s style architecture wise so far.

    They visited a terrain in Tarragona early this morning and now his personal assistant was discussing things over with the agent. Sylvester wanted to purchase all the land which was along the Mediterranean shore, waning to have his own private beach as well. The agent mentioned that this can be easily solved, and stated that him and Sylvester’s assistant can take over the paperwork. With that in mind, Sylvester had desired to head back to the hotel and enjoy a cup of tea on the terrace while taking in the beautiful scenery, but he figured that, if he was going to live in that area, he might as well find out some things from the locals. Or simply check out how pleasant, or annoying, would his neighbours be.

    The agent mentioned that this area was generally populated by witches and wizards, so Sylvester needn’t conceal himself. Plus, if he was going to purchase lands in this area, he also had to make sure that nobody would tell the media about it. Sighing, Sylvester realised it was for the best to greet the neighbours now, before he would properly establish his manor here. He was his way to the closest plantation, quite enjoying the walk. While cold, the warm breeze made it pleasant; plus, with summer at its peak in Melbourne, he didn’t get the chances to walk so freely like this now. It was nice.

    “Vid del Castillo.” He read the plantation’s name, apparently owned by the Bejarano family. The name sounded vaguely familiar, and Sylvester figured it was perhaps he’s received their wine as a gift a few times. The wizard wasn’t one for alcoholic beverages, yet his fans still sent him presents, particularly those of high quality. The Australian arranged his robes as he drew closer to the farmhouse, a dog running in his direction. Sylvester wasn’t particularly keen on dogs, but even he couldn’t do with ignoring such a warm welcome. He gently pat the dog on the head, and as it left, the wizard took out of his inner pocket a golden silk handkerchief, to wipe his hand. Dogs were nice and all, but he highly doubted that one which was let loose so freely was properly clean.

    Sylvester sighed, and just as he was placing back his handkerchief, he heard his name being called out, in a rather familiar voice. “Jessica.” The Australian said, almost mechanically, without even looking at the source of the noise. She inquired if he were lost, and Sylvester smirked charmingly. That’s why he’d found the Bejarano name so familiar. “No, as a matter of fact, I am not.” He elegantly raised his gaze, his eyes falling on her figure.

    She was… tanned. Her perfect porcelain skin was awfully ruined, and Sylvester couldn’t help himself from hiding his distaste. He enjoyed naturally olive-skinned witches getting a tan, but the porcelain pale ones? Never. They instantly lost their grace and sophistication.

    The man arched an eyebrow in response to her appearance, a bit awed how a woman who liked ruining her perfect porcelain skin even considered asking him to get serious with her. Oh, Jessica. The man said to himself, a bit ironically. The mere thought that Jessica there had wanted to put a leash around his neck was still unbelievable to him. In the past, Sylvester couldn’t deny that he’d liked her, Jessica representing one of the very few truly genuine relationships he’s had. But that resulting into marriage? With a halfblood? Never. It seemed that his rejection had indeed gotten the best of her, even years later. In the end, her looking so rustic wasn’t in his memories. And thank Merlin for that, because if so, their break-up reason would’ve been completely different. He was just that shallow.

    Still, the tanned skin, combined with her brown curls, offered her a sort of raw ferocity which perfectly matched her personality. He couldn’t deny that reality. Quite the irony, how a look he disliked on her seemed to complete her inner self. “I am actually purchasing all the lands left to this vinery. Plus the beaches.” He straightened his back, running a hand through his perfectly arranged hair, slicked back but slightly unruly from the breeze.

    “Never thought you’d be my neighbour, out of all people.” Sylvester sighed, not really fancying the idea of living next to a former lover. The tone of his voice revealed that sentiment, being rather stylishly tedious. The situation was especially complicated because the person in question was someone as volcanic as Jessica. This could only end one way: really bad. “But I guess it only reveals our common good taste.” The man replied, a bit sarcastically, as he was still questioning her choices in life, beauty-wise. “I suppose though that you are not the actual owner?” She was yet too young to actually own anything, at least in his opinion.

    Jessica’s always been quite the rebellious young thing, pretty to look at. Such a pity that she had ruined her appearance and made herself lack her usual elegance. “That unless you quit carrying around handcuffs and switched them to… are those eggs?” Sylvester gazed amused at what Jessica was carrying. Goodness. He couldn’t tell if this was getting better or worse.

    h e   s e t   f i r e   t o   t h e   w o r l d   a r o u n d   h i m   b u t   n e v e r   l e t   a   f l a m e   t o u c h   h i m
    s y l v e s t e r   w a l k e r

  • Offline Jessica Smith
  • Re: [tarragona] fragile as a dream. [tag; sylvester]
    « Reply #2 on: May 11, 2018, 03:03:52 PM »
    This was so far from Sylvester's usual hangout, she was flabbergasted. Or was it? They were strangers. They knew each other briefly, years ago, back when they were both young and stupid. Luckily for Jessica, she'd made better choices since choosing him. If she was going to look back, she might  have blamed Mr. Walker for her long coming breakdown. Heartbreak in someone's formative years was bound to leave a ripple.

    Sylvester thought she looked ridiculous and it was likewise. "Nice robes," Jess said sweetly. Black was his colour, it matched his heart and his soul. They were obviously expensive, probably handmade and fit him like a glove. But they were impractical for the Spanish mountains. He was impractical for the Spanish mountains.

    He said her name and she offered him a sunny smile. He wasn't lost? "Oh lovely," she said gently, sounding like her very English father. The Auror turned her head a little and looked out on to the burgeoning vines, full of fat ripe grapes and deeply green leaves. The only thing she felt for Sylvester was mild unease and misdirected anger where as she was sure he didn't think of her at all. It suited him well, she reckoned. He hadn't changed. He was still the cool, calm and collected individual that treated her tepidly. It was almost impossible to get a rise out of him. Sylvester lacked any extremes, good or bad and that was the main issue she had with him.

    Her warm eyes nearly boggled as he said he was buying the land, so casually. She flinched involuntarily. Her brother had been trying to buy the land for years. He was newly married with his three year old boy, Andrew. They'd wanted to live here in the summer, build a small family home and connect with their maternal lineage. It would have been lovely, a Smith-Bejerano stronghold, made just that little bit bigger. The way Sylvester had broken the news nettled her. His tone was so careless, like he wasn't turning her world upside down and shaking her until the change fell out of her pockets.

    Jessica felt unduly miffed by his appearance. Sylvester Walker was on her turf, her homeland, imposing on her family. But this wasn't really about her. Her grandparents were well into their seventies and they deserved a quiet life. They didn't need some pompous twonk with a sexy smile to come in and torpedo their retirement plans. Plus the beaches, he'd said. "Congratulations," Jessica heard herself reply in a voice that didn't sound quite like her own. "It's a beautiful part of the world," she stated honestly, whilst running a parallel conversation in her head. If you disrupt my family, I'll break every single fucking bone in your body, Jessica added silently as she smiled

    "Oh, I'm not," the tall brunette added quickly, pouring cold water on Sylvester's sarcasm before it could bother her. Neighbours? She'd rather die. Good taste? "All down to my great-grandfather," she said smoothly, determined not to get involved and be dragged down to his level. "We've been here for a while. I can't take the credit for the placement but thank you," Jess added primly. This place was, and forever would be, hers. Not his. No matter what he wanted to build or flog or move people into it, he wouldn't fit. This was not for him. "Make sure whatever you're doing, place it towards the south," she added, pointing helpfully. "You'll get the most sun light and better views."

    In typical Sylvester fashion, he twisted the knife a little deeper and her smile faltered. That was what she both hated and admired about him; his ability to nonchalantly say something so hurtful and then make her feel like it was her fault. "Because I'm a woman?" Jessica asked with an eyebrow arched. "My grandparents are fit and healthy, they have no need to pass it on to any one of us just yet," she added, sounding terse. She had numerous cousins, aunts and uncles. Her mother was not the eldest, so it was likely the Smiths wouldn't get a chance to own paradise and she figured Sylvester knew that, which was why he decided to apply the pressure. "Maybe one day," the brunette replied with another smile.

    Handcuffs? "No, they're in my bag inside," Jessica cooed with a shrug, looking down at her basket. The eggs were fresh and still warm and her grandmother made the best omelettes in the region but she'd be damned if she'd let Sylvester anywhere near them. "You should take some home," she said cheerfully, knowing full well that if they weren't properly sanitised, he'd rather punch himself in the face than eat them.

    Jess felt herself become a little irked that Sylvester mentioned her job. He had no right. He didn't know anything about her, who she was now and who she'd be in the future. They weren't pally. They'd never be anything and she didn't like being reminded. They were different people, they didn't share a common thread any more. They didn't share anything, except apparently a neighbourly fence, now. She was over him, she just wasn't over his  treatment of her. Whether Sylvester had meant to or not, he'd hurt her. It felt irreparable at the time and it had haunted her for years after they'd split. Of course he didn't understand because he'd never let her explain. Swiftly, she moved past him neatly and began her slow descent back down to the house. It'd take a while but the vineyard was far too romantic for just two people to be chatting.

    "When do you close the deal?" Jess asked, her voice carrying across the vines. It was useful to have a timeframe, purely to get herself used to it. It shouldn't be too bad because Sylvester would ignore her and they'd never have to cross paths intentionally. Stopping suddenly, she turned. "Are you buying Platja de L'arbocar?" Jessica asked hesitantly, biting her lip as sentiment washed over her. In that moment, all of her prickliness seemed to evaporate, leaving behind a young woman who was unsure of the future. She looked younger suddenly, worrisome and nostalgic. "Just…don't ruin it, please?" She asked Sylvester weakly, meeting his eye and she was fully prepared for his scorn. It was a nature reserve, an ideal picnic spot and her most favourite place in the entire world. He'd broken  her heart once and he had the power to do it all over again, except this time, it was for a different reason.

  • Offline Sylvester Walker
  • Re: [tarragona] fragile as a dream. [tag; sylvester]
    « Reply #3 on: June 04, 2018, 11:35:43 AM »
    Nice robes? Sylvester elegantly arched an eyebrow upon hearing her remark, the sweet tone of her voice being unexpected and particularly unfitting for Jessica. Perhaps her astonishment of seeing him there had caused her mind to be blank, and she couldn’t think of better words. He couldn’t particularly blame her, anyone would be absolutely in awe when being in his presence, however Sylvester couldn’t but feel a tad disappointed by her reaction. She was far beyond such childish behaviour, which was surprisingly also enhanced by her following remark.

    The Victorian sighed, and rolled his eyes. “You must be confusing me with someone else.” Sylvester stated sharply, obviously pissed off by her words. Of course, anyone would be annoyed by her remark. He didn’t say that the property wasn’t hers because she was a woman, but because she was by far too young to own something of such grandeur, especially considering that her family was neither rich, nor influential. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that Jessica didn’t own the vinery, but apparently it took someone much smarter than an Auror to figure it out. Clearly, the Aurors in the British Isles were absolutely and utterly incompetent, should Jessica even be classified as one of the best. Pathetic. He couldn’t help but thinking, realising that he’d been obviously blinded in the past. She had nothing but her good looks going on, which now obviously faded as well due to her tan. Her porcelain skin was everything she had, and Jessica threw that out the window as well.

    “I’m not some lowly ranked worm you’ve surely hooked up with after I dumped you.” Sylvester straightened his back, offering Jessica a disdainful smirk. In the end, she’s been the one to offend him first, so the much younger witch had nothing to complain about. Of course, she was acting abnormally childish, that at this point, nothing would surprise the Australian anymore. She was out of character for sure. “I guess you’re far too young to even realise that. You poor brain must not have developed yet.” The wizard sighed, feeling irked at himself for having even dated a person like her in the past. He must have been especially blinded, but thank goodness their relationship ended. No surprise there, since Jessica actually had the nerve to picture herself as Mrs. Walker. Now that he thought of it, perhaps she’d always been a mindless child. The thought that he was only realising it now gave him a shiver down his spine, but perhaps better now than never.

    “Your grandparents, of course.” Now that sounded more like it. Someone with such an advanced age could and would own a vinery, and certainly not a person – regardless of their sex, Jessica, don’t be so narrow-minded – who was in the workforce for what? Not even ten years? “One day, when you’ll be your grandparents’ age.” He emphasised, still astonished by the nerve she’d had, to put an offensive label on him. Sylvester was first and foremost a businessman; he didn’t forget, nor he did forgive such remarks easily.

    He watched her with nothing but repulsion and condescension as she walked past him, as the British started making her way towards her grandparents’ house. “Ha.” The man replied instantly at her question. “You expect me to give you confidential information about my official business?” He inquired, as sharply and disdainful as before. Her following remarks were Jessica supposedly trying to protect the area; since when was she such a wimp? Sylvester’s smirk remained unchanged on his face, if anything his gaze becoming just a bit more patronising. He didn’t like this Jessica, but he couldn’t be indifferent. In the end, it reminded him that he dated Jessica, and right now, this was a Jessica he hated.

    “Ruin? If anything, your presence here is ruining it, adding vulgarity. No wonder nobody wanted to buy the land next to this vinery. Having to see your ugly mug and put up with your barbaric behaviour is disgusting.” Sylvester then turned on his heel, deciding to go back to back to his hotel and actually relax. Perhaps, if anything, now he was going to buy the lands and the beaches just to build a broom factory there and ruin the vinery completely. Oh yes, what a fabulous idea it was indeed.

    h e   s e t   f i r e   t o   t h e   w o r l d   a r o u n d   h i m   b u t   n e v e r   l e t   a   f l a m e   t o u c h   h i m
    s y l v e s t e r   w a l k e r

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