Embers of Spring
Interacting with @Archer Duncan
“Oui1.” Maxi’s own tensed shoulders relaxed as a soft mutter again assured Archer, the twisted feeling in his guts finally fading. Of course he knew his favourite junior never meant it. “I understand. I do understand.” For a blip, Maxi was grateful to have refrained from throwing a tantrum over Archer’s initial iciness, or he would have truly ruined everything. Maybe after all they were meant to be so. Kindred. That was a strong word.
He followed Archer’s gesture just to see the orange feline basking in the sunlight, sprawling under the window. Maxi found himself exceptionally glad to hear Archer changing the subject, even if a bit unsteadily. While honouring the memory of Madame Marguerite was absolutely the right thing to do and what Maxi must do, he did, initially, come with the hope of talking his friend out of the sorrow. When the atmosphere between them had been tense and almost charged seconds ago, lingering longer was apparently not the best choice, and the shift of attention to that furry little friend was a good sign to see.
Despite that, he maintained an even expression. Zeno. Two syllables, short and sweet. “Suits him.” He remarked, though he had no idea whether Archer came up with it or named him after some great personage (surely not a magical one, or he would have known). Archer’s laugh rang in his ears, slightly different from the memory he cherished in his heart, but it warmed him to sense the relief underneath. Maxi’s lips curled up in response. “No, I don’t believe I’ve had the opportunity to say hi to him.”
He couldn’t help but picture the cat rampaging through the corridors of the grand Hogwarts castle, nervous portraits shrieking (no, he certainly wished all the best to those friendly Hogwarts portraits who claimed to have seen Archer) and, of course, Archer chasing after. The image made him chuckle, one of the few times today he felt his usual laid-back self returned. “Oh, he’s so lovely.” He breathed, gazing at the golden hues. “Makes me want to get myself a companion.” Maybe he should, after all. He never had a real pet in his life, except for the horses in the Château stables and family owls. He liked Archer’s expression when he talked about Zeno, and Maxi thought he would probably like to have his own emotions attached to some beautiful little creature—who would love him too, in return—as well.
──────────────
1: Yes
banner by Beatrice Dupont.
Maximilien de Fostoncy · Beauxbatons "Just call me Maxi." |
Hufflepuff · Lindsey Springhall "Or, have some lemonade." |
Embers of Spring
| EMBERS OF SPRING. | with @Maximeilien de Fostoncy |
banner by Prat Pass | interacting as Archer Duncan
Archer offered a smile as Maxi commented on wanting to get a pet too. “I think you’ll make a lovely carer for whatever animal you decide on. And a lovelier friend too.” Archer himself had had a pet for seven years, and Zeno for a couple of months now. The only time he didn’t have one by his side was when Hogwarts prohibited Scout from being brought to school, but aside from that he couldn’t imagine not having an animal in his life.
“So…” Archer began, eyes flitting across the room, in which most of the other students had already returned to their books and studying after they had absorbed the entirety of the drama, “How’s Beauxbatons?” He was in desperate search of a matter to converse about — how did their relationship suddenly become such an awkward quagmire to manoeuvre? His thoughts spiralled arbitrarily, and attempting to at least grasp at something among the mayhem to say, if only to maintain their semblance of normalcy and moving on from the hurtful topic, he said, “I heard you have arts courses there.” Waving his hand in a random inclination of nothing in particular, he offered, “That is pretty tempting, but while my childhood friend transferred there, I like Scotland too much to consider it.” He spoke with no remorse; he had not contacted Arianna for more than a year now and harboured no regrets.
“I would have visited you on the Valentine’s excursion, you know,” he continued, not quite certain what he was talking about as he rattled on, as long as Maxi’s attention was kept on him, as long as his stability and comfort was beside him. “But…” he trailed off again. Maxi already knew the reason why he couldn’t have made the trip, not when it was less than three months after the catastrophe happened, but Archer still felt an odd obligation to put it into words. And so he thought he was leaving the topic behind and moving onto what normal friends said to each other during normal reunions. “I was grieving,” he said finally, and made that vague gesture with his hands again as if it was nothing and everything all at once, which was probably the only truest description he could offer.
If grieving meant staying in bed practically for the entire duration of when everyone else he knew was having fun in the Pyrenees while he missed out on his favourite place in the world, well, that was exactly what he had been doing for that time and longer. The verb implied something much more active than what he had been doing, but by grief he was certainly consumed. And to be brutally honest about it? He saw no end in the near future. Maybe someday the hopelessness would finally leave him, but until that day came in some water to wine miracle, his imagination was not strong enough to conjure up an image.
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Embers of Spring
Interacting with @Archer Duncan
He smiled softly in response. “That’s so nice to hear.” Maxi chuckled, mood lifted. He might still have to wait until he got home for the holiday and could spare some time, but he guessed it would surely be worth the wait.
He cast his eyes at Zeno again when Archer suddenly seemed to take an interest in his school. “Oh, it’s fine, I guess.” He answered, a little bit caught off guard. “Just…the usual school stuff.” After the Valentine’s party, that was. Nothing peculiar to speak of, or at least he thought so. He wasn’t sure why Archer suddenly brought this up. A few minutes ago, he had been glad of the shift of topic, but when Archer really did, Maxi just couldn’t help but overthink. Was it because his mother crossed his mind again, which brought him to think of her alma mater? Or was it merely because he hoped to know how Maxi was doing? While he had a vague idea of what the sorrow Archer had been experiencing, he himself remained rather a mystery to his friends. The several conjectures stung without exception. Now Archer and he had finally made peace, and the onlookers had gotten back to their tasks for their own good, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking of these random things. He really shouldn’t.
Maxi had to force himself to stop woolgathering. His dark grey eyes followed Archer’s gesture, trying to gather his thoughts again. He curved his lips. “A wide variety of art courses, yes.” He confirmed. “We also tend to teach the branches of magic with a blend of art.” He was fond of this kind of syllabus, which added much flavour to the ordinary classroom experience. Elegance and exquisiteness were words that were usually associated with Beauxbatons. Stereotypes, maybe, but they weren’t wrong. Nodding as he heard Archer describing it as “tempting”—which he agreed, his friend would absolutely love their courses—Maxi listened attentively, about his childhood friend transferring there, and he preferring to stay in Scotland.
“, me too.” He had always loved the Pyrenees dearly, having spent almost six years there, even if it had nothing resembling what it was like near the Rhône. Archer’s familiarity with Scotland since his childhood probably added to his closeness with the district, and yes, he could understand it. For a second, Maxi hated himself for letting his thoughts ramble, but, after the unfortunate event, Archer would have far less to do with France from now on, wouldn’t he? The night when they wandered through the streets of Lyon lingered in his mind. Those happy days, once in a lifetime. Fleeting, disappearing. “I always thought it would be great if they could set up, like, those exchange student things.” He observed.
So he knew. From Beauxbatons the topic veered in the direction of Valentines. He wouldn’t say that he proved himself insensitive to romance and all that was a complete failure which he never wished to go back to, but it was like a whirlwind, the whole experience, and it still left him rather dizzy whenever he thought of it. Mingling with Schroeder, feelings tangling, the see-you-tomorrows unaccountably converting into tacit farewells and adieus—how on earth did they communicate with each other for that long when Schroeder was flirting and he was just being a good friend?
“Ah…” He meant to respond to Archer saying that he would have visited him—he would surely save him from the embarrassment, wouldn’t he?—before being startled by the hesitant “but”. Maxi stopped and nodded gravely, pressing his lips and hoping to say something, yet eventually just remained silent. Lifting his eyes, Maxi looked into Archer, sincerely, genuinely. Grieving. Oh, of course he was aware of it, and Archer wouldn’t have to specify. He found his eyes involuntarily following Archer’s gesture again, even though he still couldn’t decipher what exactly it was. Maxi didn’t know what made his friends feel like he needed to do a further explanation, whether he was slowly getting over it or his feelings were elicited again.
“It’s okay.” Maxi answered and nodded with that solemn expression again, more like a mutual understanding of the situation than anything else. He probably had said enough okays today already, as if it was the only word he could conjure, and he wouldn’t blame if Arched had grown tired of it. If only the whole world would be okay if he just said the magical two syllables out loud. And he wasn’t being sorry again by all means—well, he might be a little—the event itself wasn’t so enchanting, at least in Maxi’s eyes.
“Honestly, while I would love to show you around our school, you didn’t miss out much if you weren’t yearning for a relationship.” He said truthfully. “It’s Valentine’s themed, after all.” And one should always confirm if they were really spending the holiday with a seemingly platonic friend before setting the date. “Though still, Beauxbatons is definitely worth exploring, and oh…” They would doubtless form a wonderful team, he and Archer, and they would have a perfect time. His heart throbbed, the idea coming back to him—if only an “okay” could make things okay…“We will have the opportunity. Someday.” Usually, optimism wasn’t his strength, but for a blip, he was really convinced that everything would be okay.
banner by Beatrice Dupont.
Maximilien de Fostoncy · Beauxbatons "Just call me Maxi." |
Hufflepuff · Lindsey Springhall "Or, have some lemonade." |
Embers of Spring
30/03/25 | Library
“Yes….When I come, you’ll show me around.” When, because he will. “But hopefully I’ll make it in time; I find it difficult to believe you’re graduating next year,” Archer mused. The Christmas when they had first met seemed both just like yesterday yet a thousand years away.
“Hopefully, we will have the opportunity to do a lot of things… someday.” That word seemed so far away, as if someday meant another year, another decade, perhaps another life entirely later. Despite Maxi’s attempt at optimism he was not feeling so certain of his future. The familiar weight of hopelessness weighed over his chest again, as if nothing good could come of a world suddenly turned so bleak and dreary, and certainly not the future of someday he spoke of. Perhaps the words were meant as promise, to Maxi, to the world, to himself, that he, Archer Theodore Duncan, or whoever he was supposed to be now, would live to see that day and finally experience it.
“There are so many things I want to do,” Archer began slowly. These days he hadn’t been quite sure what to do with his life, how to live it and where to go with it, but he knew he was not satisfied with his quotidian mundanes, and he knew he wanted bigger. He wanted to explore every inch of the world like his mother and write about everything mankind could feel like his father. He was hungry for more than just a life spent tediously alternating between his dormitory, classrooms, the library, and the duelling club, operating on autopilot more often than not. After all, didn’t he deserve more than just this? Being confined to this human body that suffered and ached, and had been forced through experiences he would not wish on the boy he hated most. “But lately,” he continued on a shaky breath, “I feel like there’s so little time, like everything is slowed down and I have no energy.”
Everything was slipping away, right through his fingers, and there was hardly anything grounding to hold onto. He was glad Maxi visited; perhaps if he hadn’t, he would have slipped away too.
“So what do you want to do in the future? After you graduate?” Archer prompted. The time for he himself to make that decision was still in the far future, and although he had seeds planted he could not have possibly envisioned what he would be like after five more years. Trying to recall what they had talked about the last time in Lyon, still peaceful, quaint little Lyon, he asked, “Are you going into the family business? Or are you more looking towards the literary arts?” To be frank, he could see Maxi succeeding in either field, or perhaps both combined together.
“Come to think of it, actually,” Archer perked up suddenly, trying to envision Maxi sitting with a novel under shelves of beverages, “Running a vineyard could be quite romantic, don’t you agree? You know, if you do choose to do it, I feel like you could make it more than just your family’s legacy.” He smiled a little as the sunbeams danced on his face, closing his eyes softly against the rays, imagining himself surrounded by grapes in Lyon, “I will come and steal your grapes, and once I’m sixteen…” He trailed off slightly at the thoughts. Sixteen. Another year Archer was on this Earth, another year Marguerite was not, as if karma had played its most devastating card and traded life for life. If every birthday was destined to only drag him further down into the dark well of past flames, he would have rather not celebrated them. “And once I’m sixteen we’ll taste all the wines together.”
He laughed a little, “What was that novel we were talking about writing back in Lyon? With adventures and fantasy…. We never did write anything, did we?”
@Maximilien de Fostoncy
I am not even singed. My wings are untouched. You use them for everything, except flight.
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Liliya Starkova| Anthonie Engelbrecht
Embers of Spring
Interacting with @Archer Duncan
The mention of his graduation was like a scratch from a kitten's paw. Playful and fuzzy, not at all pesky, but still a distraction that could not be easily ignored. Graduation had once been a distant concept, yet he had to thoroughly consider the whole matter in about a year's time. Someday. Graduation had been someday--actually, it still was for Archer. And what was next? Growing up, fulfilling the dreams, living a life without regrets--graduation had a set date; he would have to leave Beauxbatons as soon as he received that certificate, but there were far more "someday"s in life with no deadlines. Maxi nodded solemnly, echoing Archer's sentiment. He had been a rather committed optimist today, but now this topic made him a little bit sentimental. Still--the upside was, "there's still time."
He knew that they were kindred spirits, he and Archer, and he could totally understand Archer's aspirations, spoken or not. Trips to uncharted places. Explorations to the ends of the earth. Maxi lowered his eyes, fixing them on the large stone fireplace at the center of the far end of the room. It was perfectly still, but he wondered what it would be like when snow visited, crackling, sparkling? "It's okay to take a rest, you know." He soothed. Like the fireplace, which would surely reignite when the colder months came. They just needed time. And then there would be warmth.
When Maxi had stepped into the grand library of Hogwarts, he had resolved to make it an "Archer Day", so as the topic shifted onto him naturally he was rather taken aback. "Uh," He mumbled, ruffling his curls. He couldn't pinpoint when he lost the ability to reply readily and decisively, and oh--Archer knew him. He just did.
If he could turn the clock back and place this choice in front of a younger Maxi, literary would be the only answer. Family business was a firm no for as long as he could remember, and for several years he had made figuring out how to properly inform his grandfather and make him accept his favourite pastime. When an eleven-year-old Maxi finished his first poem among the soft chirping of nightingales in the Beauxbatons gardens, he was sure that he longed for a carefree career as an author, and he resented the so-called family legacy. It would be no easy task to persuade his family, being an only child and sole heir, but he would steel himself for it when the time came. Now that the moment was drawing nearer, and yet he found himself changing.
"Honestly…you know me inside out. Those are exactly the two options I'm torn between. " He had lost count of how many times he told others he aspired to become an author, to write fantasies and poems, to bring dreams to life. The poetic, ideal life certainly sounded better than a merchant tied to a vineyard and caught up in the stifling monotony of the mundane. He and writing were love at first sight, and until now, they still hadn't quite gotten out of that sweet honeymoon period, but now Maxi hesitated. The grapes that he knew so well yet never spared a glance now made him pause. "I was dead set on a career in writing when I was younger." He began slowly. It was a topic better left for quiet midnight reflection that he might just brush off if asked by others, but to Archer, he could voice his thoughts and fears out loud. Maxi knew he could receive real support and sincere advice. He sure would. "But...as of lately, I find myself wondering if I should take over the business instead." Maxi took a breath. "I used to hate the idea...it was like a kind of rebellion? Strangely enough, I feel like it's an acceptable thing--tempting, even. I don't know, it's not because of some kind of responsibility, my father could handle it perfectly well on his own, or because of I’ve lost interest in literary arts. Maybe I've just learned to see the beauty of the vineyard after all these years." He chuckled slightly.
His eyes widened when Archer suddenly spoke, seemingly on a whim. Vineyard. Of course, he would speak of the vineyard, and yes, it could be quite romantic. He couldn't agree more. Only when he reached the final years of school could he learn how fortunate he was to grow up in such a poetic place. The walks after rains, mixed fragrance lingering in the air, memories etched into the wooden barrels, sunbeam filtering through the small skylight into the cellar...a smile tugged at his lips as he thought of these, when Archer expressed that he believed he could make something out of it. His cheeks reddened, dark grey eyes lit up. "You really think so?" He asked softly, timidly. "Thank you. I will consider it properly."
He no longer felt revulsion when thinking of inheriting the business. When had that changed? Maybe it was when he found out about his late grandmother's wand and inherited it, or it was when he stayed up all night talking to his father properly for the first time, or maybe it was when his mother won an award for her latest painting which style she hadn't tried in a decade after marrying. Grandfather--his grandfather was still himself, he supposed, though Maxi decided not to let the thought ruin his day. Everything was taking a change for the better. It was only then did he realise that what he truly wished to escape from was not the vineyard, but the cage it formed.
And there would be Archer. His dear friend, brother-like spirit. They've talked a lot about books and quills back at that Christmas, but never properly about the vineyard, and as it was a place that Maxi had left so many marks on, he would love to introduce it to Archer, just like Beauxbatons. He thought for a while, picturing Archer slipping into the vineyard and disappearing among the vines, and he smiled, fondly, childishly. "We could play hide-and-seek." He had never really gotten to play with his peers when he was of the hide-and-seek-appropriate age, so this would be quite a novel thing. It would surely be fun. Only if he could fast-forward time right now..."Right. You'll be served with our best vintages and my personal selection."
As for their co-writing project that had never officially gotten off the ground..."Yeah." He agreed, nodding. Things had been changing rapidly from the time they bid each other adieu on the streets of Lyon, but still, it's never too late to kick off. Dark grey eyes blinked archly. "Why don't you and Zeno show me around? It's been ages since I last visited Hogwarts."
"Two boys and a cat. That makes up quite a story." Maxi mumbled, thoughtfully. Hunting for stories in a castle like Hogwarts sounded perfect, and, oh yes, despite being generally a patient person, he couldn't wait to start right away.
Thread Finished.
banner by Beatrice Dupont.
Maximilien de Fostoncy · Beauxbatons "Just call me Maxi." |
Hufflepuff · Lindsey Springhall "Or, have some lemonade." |