(no subject)

[alt_regulus]

A quiet evening at home is a lovely, decadent thing. Especially such a rainy one when inside it's snug and warm.

I've been working all week at sorting through the boxes from Aunt Prewett's, but I'm nearly finished. I've set the armour to stand guard beside my breakfast table lest anyone steal my toast of a morning.

Now I think of it, most of the items were actually Uncle's--a rather wicked-looking poignard, for instance, and a silver shaving set. (I've been pondering what might happen if its charms have gone wonky at all.) Best of all, there are a great load of books. Inspired Strategies of Death-dealing Duellists by Esme Meretriste seems the most entertaining of them, but there are some real gems in the lot--ancient, obscure, idiosyncratic and utterly ingenious books of history and spellcraft and theory. There's a bit of philosophy in the mix, a medieval navigational manual, and a set of Senecan tragedies with very fine bindings.

One of the boxes contained an interesting assortment of oddments that must have been left at the end of the divvying up:

item, one ball self-tying twine;
item, one murderous thimble that jabs poison into the wearer's finger;
item, one well-worn pack playing cards missing three of its four jacks;
item, one fruit bowl, unwashed;
item, one flask doxy venom;
item, one absinthe spoon inscribed 'Hotel Churn, Cirencester';
item, one long shoe lace (unless it's really a garrote);
item, one chipped desktop espial globe;
item, one bone or ivory cigarette holder etched with ivy design;
item, one lady's hat, chartreuse with peacock tail.

Oh, yes, and one silver button.

I believe I'll take Salazar's Sapience to bed with me; it's a page-turner so far.

Comments

[alt_lucius]

So I see.

I can't tell you much except that I'm grateful it's not me she's pressing into service.

I'm told not to tell you that it's pin

[alt_narcissa]

Oh, no you don't!

Never fear, Regulus. It's not pink.

[alt_regulus]

Pin-striped, then?

Pinked edges on the lacework?

Pinch-pleated?

Pinned together with a single large nappy pin?


The mind whirls with the possibilities.

[alt_lucius]

I have regained my quill on the promise that I reveal nothing further.

Also, I'm instructed to correct my statement: Narcissa's is not pink, either. (Apparently there is a difference between periwinkle and pink, and at any rate, she says she had rather Splinch herself than wear pink when Dolores Umbridge is likely to be at the gala. In the first case, I neither knew nor cared about the distinction; in the second, I can readily understand her adamant denunciation of the colour. It certainly looks pink to me, but I am assured I am wrong in this assessment.)

[alt_regulus]

Oh, dear.

I seem to find myself leading someone astray or prodding them on for the third time this evening.

I hate to think what trouble I may be in with Narcissa.

[alt_narcissa]

I thought you wanted to be in competition for Rabble-Rouser of the year?

[alt_regulus]

You have me there. I concede.

[alt_narcissa]

None of the above.

I promise you will adore it. No need to put yourself on the rack.

[alt_regulus]

I will prepare myself for feeling adoration, then.

Cousin. You raise teasing to new heights, you know.

[alt_regulus]

On the rack? Off the rack?

No, cousin. I'm bespoke.