Author Topic:  [dorfold | cheshire] I am, I am, I am [closed]  (Read 200 times)

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  • Offline Genevieve Grosvenor
  • [dorfold | cheshire] I am, I am, I am [closed]
    « on: June 14, 2018, 07:59:38 AM »
    As the anniversary of her father’s imprisonment into Azkaban approached, Genevieve found herself more on edge than usual. Every year had been the same, feelings of anxiousness at the date arrived, she had begun to anticipate it more than her own birthday. Her stomach had formed nervous knots at the idea that the year would not reach its completion, that somehow her father would return to her and everything would return to normal. It had been almost four years and even then, she could clearly remember the events surrounding her father’s imprisonment, so much so that it felt as if it had happened yesterday. A week short of her birthday, Genevieve had been anxious, her mind drawing conclusions from her father’s behavior as to what gift awaited her that year. She had begged for a unicorn, had done so since she was five years old, and had a rising suspicion that he planned to make good on the promise he had made years prior. By thirteen years old, the teenager had her father wrapped around her little finger and she was almost certain that he would not deny her what she wished.
     
    But her flight of fancy into the world of her own imagination took a sudden turn for the worst as she turned the corner to find a group of people, Ministry officials, she assumed by their clothing and the stern look on their faces, and her poor father, his gaze lowered to the ground in an expression of defeat in handcuffs, roughly pulled along towards the front door. It did not take much for Genevieve to figure out what was happening and it was with the assumption she had made that the teenager broke down into tears, Effie holding her back as she attempted to run after him. The door to the estate opened to a flash of cameras, it had been a good thing that Effie had kept her from him, and the Daily Prophet would have found a way of turning the misery of a young girl losing her father to something more sinister and sensational. Of course, it was also something that Genevieve held on to until now, one of the many reasons that she had grown distant and quite displeased with her maid. She had not only been robbed of her father but also of her opportunity to say goodbye, and it was not something the young woman would ever let go of.
     
    Since his imprisonment, Genevieve had been strictly prohibited from visiting him at Azkaban. She was unsure of the reason behind it, but her uncle had been firm enough to frighten her into doing as she was told. Nevertheless, the forceful separation only made her grow bitter towards everyone else around her. Although it pained her to admit it, the imprisonment of her mother had made sense—Hesperia Lovecraft had murdered a young witch at a tea house in broad daylight and while Genevieve wanted to disagree, had been served the rightful punishment appropriate for the crime. Leonidas Grosvenor, however, had been charged with a series of crimes and proven guilty with circumstantial evidence and without a trial. The Ministry knew that what they were doing was wrong but were trying to make a point, to send a message. The Grosvenors had been careful about demonstrating their allegiances but it was quite obvious who they supported, it was simply a matter of connection the family to the crime, something that the Ministry had been unable to do. 
     
    Uncle Septimus, whom had so graciously taken guardianship of her when her father was sent to prison, had promised to get justice for his younger brother. A man of his word, Genevieve expected justice and when he promised to have the sentencing overturned, the already impatient young woman had grown desperate with a need to see something, anything that demonstrated that action was being taken. As the fourth year of her father’s imprisonment approached swiftly, the young woman had decided that she had had enough. She would not wait a moment longer, it was unfair that she should have to suffer when everyone around her simply continued on their lives as if nothing had happened. The family had lost two members to Azkaban and proceeded as normal, and it was a combination of despair, desperation, and impatience that gave her the courage to make her way down to her uncle’s office to confront him about his incompetence in the dealing of her father’ issue.
     
    She knocked firmly on the door, allowing herself in before the man had an opportunity to respond. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the portrait of him behind his desk, the looming and imposing figure he was had been captivated perfectly. Every line of his ever present scowl meticulously added, his piercing grey-blue eyes even colder than the real thing. “Uncle Septimus, I demand to know what is being done about my father,” she stated very firmly, taking a seat, her hands neatly folded in her lap. “It’s been almost four years, you promised me that you would do everything in your power,” she said before heaving a sigh, lowering her gaze into her lap, “you said that you would have it sorted and it’s been such a long time. I haven’t even been allowed to see him, you know that he is not guilty for the crimes he was charged with. He’s you’re younger brother, why has no progress been made?” she took a deep breath before looking back up at him, “If I must get involved in order to get my father the justice he deserves, then I will. It is quite obvious that his release is not your priority and if it is, I hope you do not mind me saying, you are going about it quite inefficiently,” she said, the anger evident in her words. She took a deep breath, wondering if she had gone too far but shook her head for more resolve, “I will not stand for my father to be at Azkaban for one more year, are you waiting for him to lose his mind? Nothing was even done about my mother, why should your brother receive such low treatment?”   
     

    @Katya

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  • Offline Katya
  • Re: [dorfold | cheshire] I am, I am, I am [closed]
    « Reply #1 on: June 20, 2018, 02:10:36 AM »


    NPC; Septimus Grosvenor



    Strong hands clasped together as they were held together behind his back, resting against the soft fabric of the suit that hung along his frame flawlessly, his gaze took in the sight of his youngest child. Amounting to much would be hard for the young boy who was cast in the deep shadow of his brothers worth. Worth that made him less important and in a way free to be himself where Augustus was forced to live the life his father laid for him. Septimus had known what it was like to be the golden child. He knew the strain such responsibility put on a sibling relationship, after all, calling the authorities to ensure the imprisonment of his own brother had been a calculated move. A move that had been in the works since his brother lost his wife to the same prison, it seemed fitting that they share similar cells. In his mind, Septimus felt he was teaching the valuable lesson that all actions have consequences but really he simply wanted his brother gone. Killing the other man wasn’t an option, far too many questions, but locking him away proved far too easy. Full lips pursed as Augustus came into view and he thought briefly that the boy mirrored him in his youth.

    He reminded Septimus that he was no longer the reigning voice in their household, at least not for long. His jaw tightened and he turned to walk back to his desk, the disappointment clear in his expression. Despite the responsibility given to his eldest son the boy somehow still fell short. Septimus had no proud moments outside of the boys birth and those rare moments he saw a spark of cruelty. The man felt his son had been dimmed by the unconditional love of his mother and he tried his best to make him perfect but molding him proved a hard task not worth the effort. Oh, how he wished for better sons, worthy sons, but he would have to make do – had made do for years as best he could. The constant disappointment was tiresome and Septimus was all out if advice and harsh lessons. The only saving grace came in the shape of a womanly figure and was of no use to the man’s grand plan despite Victoria’s many attempts and appealing displays. He heaved a sigh as he sunk into the plush softness of his office chair. The darkest parts of his hedonistic mind sought out another harsh lesson, someway to deprive the heir to all he had perfected of the last splinterings of his hope. He needed to snuff out the good in his son if ever he was to lead the right way.

    Emotions held no place next to power they didn’t mix well and Septimus would never be okay with his dynasty crumbling because Augustus felt. He himself was a hard man whose emotions were rightfully reserved for private moments with his wife, the anchor to his humanity and the holder of the leash to his unforgiving anger. He should have worked harder to break the boy, should have started sooner to ensure the smile Augustus sometimes wore had to been ripped from him. There was still time, Septimus hoped. His gaze rose with the opening of the heavy oak door to his office and the man lifted a brow as his niece entered, a rare occasion if ever he had one. Vaguely the man thought how despite her parentless childhood she had turned out as he had hoped his own children would. She was reckless, yes of course, but she was also bold and honest in all that she did. Which, was more than he could say of his own legacies. Genevieve was truly a gem among the rocks that usually surrounded the man. Septimus simply nodded at her words, at the tone she took and the authority she displayed. On a good day, he might have been amused – maybe – but she spoke to him in a manner unbefitting of her station.

    “First,” the man started “you will rise from that chair and exit my office and reenter like you’ve been raised among civilized people.” His jaw flexed as his gaze bore into her, “Then you will apologize for assuming you have the right to speak to me as if I answer to you.” Long fingers came together as a perch for his chin as his elbows found the smooth surface of his desk. The audacity, the sheer lack of respect and her sense of entitlement was enough to flair his already short temper. If only she knew the truth, knew the lengths taken to make sure her father stayed where he was. Septimus cleared his throat once she re-entered the room and his hand rose as if to dismiss whatever half-decent apology she’d come up with in the few minutes time. Arguing with her would prove exhausting but the man simply needed a moment to adjust to her sudden intrusion. "I am well aware of the length of time that has gone by, it's not as if it was such a fleeting moment in our lives - these four years."  He scoffed, watching her "You storm in here and question what I have done to free my own brother?" His frown was well placed as shook his head in disgust which was real, unlike his words, "I have done everything!" He snapped, "What have you done?"

    His expression was cold as he stared at her, leaning forward a bit "Nothing, so how dare you think you could ever question me?" His eyes rolled and despite himself, he chose to be honest, "He is guilty of far more than you will ever be capable of understanding. Perhaps, later when you have grown more and lived life, but," He paused as his gaze swept over her, "that seems rather unlikely." His brother may not have committed the crimes he had been charged with but that didn't mean that the other man wasn't deserving of his punishment, even if, it was selfish. "You entitled youth are so amusing thinking that the world owes you something, that others should bend to your will because of wealth? What portion have you cultivated to have such authority?" He chuckled as he moved to stand, inhaling deep "How can you be so certain that justice hasn't already taken it's course? Your mother, as you so boldly mentioned got what was deserving." His tall frame moved from behind the desk, his movements slow and measured as he moved to sit on the edge of the desk next to her.

    "I assure you, Genevieve, your subpar efforts would prove nothing in an attempt to best me. You've mistaken me for one of the adolescent boys beyond these walls. That imaginary power you think you possess is apparently as feeble as your mind if you can't think rationally." His lips pursed, "Which isn't very surprising considering all things, but really, I expected more of you. I thought you had some semblance of grace and dignity."


    [permisson given to move Evie around]

  • Offline Genevieve Grosvenor
  • Re: [dorfold | cheshire] I am, I am, I am [closed]
    « Reply #2 on: June 20, 2018, 03:23:27 AM »

    It had been slightly presumptuous of her to believe that her uncle would allow her to speak her mind so freely without consequences—he was, after all, always finding a reason to punish Augustus and while Genevieve had never been given such treatment in the past, her position as niece did not spare her from her uncle’s flares of anger. While she was eternally grateful for his willingness to take her in after losing not one but both of her parents, that childhood admiration and love she had once held for him had transformed into something ugly over time. Of course he had accepted to be her guardian, it was his job. And while he may not like the things that proceeded forth from her, the young witch had always been particularly bold, sometimes to a fault, there was very little that he could do without her making a big fuss about it. In her mind, her unfortunate childhood played a large role in her uncle’s treatment and consideration of her feelings and it was a card she planned to play for as long as she lived under his roof.

    Therefore, when he told her to stand up, leave from his office and re-enter, Genevieve did as she was asked, partly for fear of what he should do should she disobey but mostly because this was not the war she wished to fight. Those two minutes did little to move her towards guilt, if she felt sorry for anything within the span of her exit and re-entry, it was that she had not spoken more boldly and given him a few choice words which she had been wanting to say to him for some time. Genevieve did not make it a habit of visiting his office for that very reason. Unlike her own parents, Uncle Septimus enjoyed exercising discipline and control over the young woman, and it was something that she had little tolerance for. Her own parents had oftentimes saw things her way, years of practice had made her big, blue-grey eyes and a slight quivering of her bottom lip their weakness and for a large part of her life, Genevieve had been able to live as she liked. It felt almost unnatural to follow the directions of others without protest, unlike Augustus, she had never been trained to fall in line.

    She attempted to come up with an apology but genuine words failed her, “I-“ she started but was moved to silence by his hand. Her jaw clenched slightly, her long fingernails digging into the palm of her hand as she held her tongue, it would not do to argue with him. Genevieve knew men like this, their entire purpose was based on the need to control others because they could not bear the shortcomings of their own existence, and considering how little he had accomplished in life compared to what Augustus would do in the future, it was obvious that he needed to be indulged. So, she indulged him and sat there, listening as he proceeded to insult her for her behavior but doing very little to persuade her that anything was being done at all. Augustus, she trusted unconditionally, her Uncle Septimus, on the other hand, left much to be desired in the department of honesty.

    She leaned back as he sat closer to her, his sudden proximity making her a little nervous but it was only for a moment before she regained her composure, she took a deep breath, looking up at him and forcing a smile onto her face. “Surely uncle you’ve also inherited this lifestyle; our family riches go back to say…the eleventh century? Of course we appreciate your efforts in keeping this family together but I do not think that you’ve done anything particularly special of being remembered for,” she widened her eyes a little, in feigned embarrassment, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, she smiled nervously, “Not that I do not admire you, Uncle, you graciously took me in when I had no one else and now you have the ability to do something truly great, ensuring the safe return of your brother and giving your niece, whom you love and care for so much, the one thing she desires more than anything else in world,” she moved to stand up, putting some distance between them as she walked around his desk to stand in front of the large portrait, looking up at it in admiration.

    “I would never pretend to possess power, I am quite aware of my position in this family, uncle, and considering how far I am from being heir, I have no desire to possess any. All I ask,” she turned to him, her expression growing serious, “All I truly ask from you, after all these years, is that you guarantee the return of my father. Whatever crimes you think he was responsible for, he is surely not guilt of, and even if he was, I am well aware of the influence the Grosvenor family wields,” she continued. “It’s all very difficult for me, Uncle Septimus,” she says with a sigh, looking back up at the painting, “to think that the one man I know has the ability to do this for me, won’t do this and I simply cannot understand what I have ever done to deserve such unkind words from you,” she closes her eyes, focusing on whatever terrible thought she could think of at the moment to encourage the corners of her eyes to tear up. She sniffled a little, turning to her uncle again with hopes that her saddened expression would lessen his anger.

    “Tell me exactly what you’d like for me to do to bring my father back home and consider it done,” she says, her voice straining just slightly, “Because I’ve done everything in my power to do what I can to bring him back and it was obviously not enough. Should I go to the Ministry on my own? Should I print something in the papers? I’ve kept silent because I do not wish to bring any unnecessary attention to our family. So with your permission, I would like to contact the Daily Prophet and speak to them of such great injustices and will trouble you no longer.”


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