Make My Day PV Closed

Banner by: Liana Kerr

Interacting with Maximilien de Fostoncy (@Lindsey Springhall)
Colour code - #00364a - #9a244f
Outfit
English | French | Spanish | German

𝕴t was a beautiful Saturday afternoon where spring was just peeking around the corner. There was a playfulness in nature, in the skies, woodland and soil. The time of plenty was coming and the joy of coming abundance energized the air. In rain or shine, there was a new warmth, inviting the lips to smile. The greenness of the grass was soon to be echoed by the trees, while the flowers promised their rainbow garland to the fermented Earth.

Even though the de Bourbon Heir was a child born in autumn, there was a small appreciation for the most beautiful season of the year to be had--and Henri had always known how to cherish everything beauty.

Under the gentle spring sun, its rays warmed his skin like kisses from the divine. The nascent leaves from the trees of the lavish Beauxbatons gardens had that soft green and the ground was scattered with vivid blooms whose petals danced in the breeze. Henri was a creature who did not understand love--but he supposed he could say that he loved spring. He could drink it up like a tonic. Instead he spread his fingers wide and fanned them idly through the damp air as birds above flitted from branch to branch, letting out their sweet melody. Yes, it was a beautiful day indeed, and Henri could sense he was about to encounter something pleasant. Like that feeling when you just knew in your gut that something good was going to happen.

The charismatic French wasn't flanked by his usual entourage at the moment, as they were tuned enough to his moods and understood that he'd wanted to be left alone for the remainder of the afternoon to enjoy the sunlight in peace. One would be surprised that such a handsome face with rotten insides would indulge himself in such a mundane activity. Henri snorted lightly, amused by the very thought that anybody would assume so of him. Although he always lapped up the attention like a wolf that caught its prey, Henri delighted in quiet moments he had to himself away from others who were not aware of the real person he was beneath the mask. One of the similar things he shared with his dearest cousine in England, he mused internally.

Speaking of Regina, the blond remembered in one of the letters they exchanged that there was a Blossom Ball to be held soon in Hogwarts, where other magical schools including the L'Académie would visit and attend alongside the British students. Henri's lips curled into a smirk as he reminisced of his past interactions with his second cousin and wondered how she was currently fairing. The last time they had seen each other in person was during Beatrice Barett's funeral, and the Miller family had been shrouded in a somewhat gloomy atmosphere. Henri lacked the compassion needed to care for other people, but he'd always been fond of Regina, even though he didn't understand why she refused to connect with her peers. It was entirely foolish to not gain allies and use them to your advantage, make them do your bidding. It was one of the fastest way to climb up the social ladder. Henri lamented his cousin's inexistent conviction in this important field.

Je suppose qu'on ne peut pas tous être moi, au final.(1)

A sudden rustling sound of flying paper interrupted the de Bourbon Heir's pretentious pondering. Henri's steps came to a halt as curious grey eyes traveled to where a figure not too far from where he stood was chasing after pieces of parchments floating in the air. No doubt the person had been preoccupied with some sort of writing before the gentle spring breeze had disrupted their progress. Henri's gaze shifted to some of the pages landing near his feet, and a malignant grin appeared on his lips at the golden opportunity to snatch yet another unsuspecting person into his every growing entourage. Besides, even from this distance, Henri could see that whoever it was had quite the pretty face, and the blond was nothing if not an avid appreciator of all things beautiful (like himself).

Schooling his expression into something much more charming, Henri bent down at the waist to pick up the stray parchments (his clever eyes scanning briefly over the contents and was mildly surprised to be met with poems) and casually strode over to the other presence in the garden. Up close, he recognised the person as male with attractive dark brown curls and offered him the remaining pages of his work.

"Salut. Je crois que ceux-ci t'appartiennent?"(2) Henri smiled handsomely with a wink. "Un joli poème écrit par un joli garçon. Quel talent."(3)

WC: 780
(1)I suppose we can't all be me, in the end.
(2)Hey. I believe these belong to you?
(3)A pretty poem written by a pretty boy. How talented.

As Maximilien "Maxi" de Fostoncy [x]
English · #586d9d | French · #056b68

interacts Henri de Bourbon (@Regina Miller)

banner by liana kerr

His dark grey eyes scanned around with anxiety, when someone approached. Upon hearing a charming voice announcing its existence, he shifted his attention to the newcomer. He was, no doubt, a charming young man, and Maxi was overjoyed to see him with his manuscript in hands. “Yes, they are indeed mine.” he replied, while raising up the other half of parchments to show the boy. “It’s really kind of you.” remembering the etiquettes his grandfather had taught him, Maxi bowed slightly to the boy before taking his parchments over.

“Oh…thank you so much.” he widened his eyes and blushed slightly, when the blond started to praise him. Alright, it wasn’t unusual for him to be praised by numerous people regarding his looks, but his poems - his works that he loved dearly - scarcely no one had paid adequate attention to them, perhaps with the exception of the good André. And now this boy addressed him as “the talented”, which made Maxi in joy. He had made up his mind that he had already begun liking this unacquainted boy, despite the fact that he had only known him for approximately three minutes. Deciding that he should pay the boy’s kindness back, Maxi started again, his voice dreamy yet polite - “I must say that you are quite a charming and witty person, Monsieur…?”

His voice trailed off in the spring breeze, having suddenly realised that he had not even inquired about the boy’s name. While he could be a classmate in his year, Maxi did not recognise him. And yet Monsieur le Comte as well as Monsieur le Chevalier had often told him to learn others’ names before conversing with them. That’s polite, they said, and you should always remember that. Maxi wasn’t always in the habit of doing this though, but he decided to follow this rule today. He was always in rules, and though he normally disliked them, he tended to follow them. And in case that this boy was from a pureblood family, he should at least be able to show that the de Fostoncys were well-educated.

“I’m sorry, though may I have the honour of making myself acquainted with you?” he inquired, soft dark grey eyes landed on the boy. “I am Maximilien René Pas - ah, never mind, Maximilien de Fostoncy, and it’s my third year here.” he quickly changed over, his hands gripping his parchments tight. He was too used to introduce himself in his quite a mouthful full name when his family’s around - his grandfather and father took pride in that - but certainly his peers would not be interested in learning them. He tended to avoid the talks regarding middle names, and had seldom revealed all of them to his classmates. “My middle names are way too long, you know.” he explained, while laughing slightly. “But pray, just call me Maxi. That’s already sufficient enough.”

Banner by: Liana Kerr

Interacting with Maximilien de Fontoscy (@Lindsey Springhall)
Colour code - #00364a - #9a244f
English | French | Spanish | German

𝕳enri's disarming smile quirked into a smirk when he noticed the pretty blush across the other boy's cheeks. It had always been so easy for him to attract people with a few well-placed compliments.

"Henri Charles de Bourbon," The blond replied with an almost purring voice, shoving his hands into his trousers pockets in a casual stance. "Tu peux m'appeller Henri. Enchanté."⁽¹⁾

The 12-year-old assessed the other boy with a pleased gleam inside his grey eyes, the usual coldness in them turning soft with the warm sunlight of spring and making them sparkle like diamonds. From outer appearance and posture alone, Henri could decipher his upbringing was nothing short of noble and polite. Another Pureblood, from the looks of it, and his eyebrows lifted with interest as the boy introduced himself as Maximilien of the Fontoscy family. They were a notable name within the high society of Wizarding France, just as Henri's lineage was, so perhaps it shouldn't have come as a surprise for him that the Heir was blessed with beautiful looks and a natural talent. Henri was an accomplished violinist and painter himself. This would be an opportunity for them to create a bond, and for Henri to secure a powerful alliance with another influential Pureblood family.

"Ne t'en fais pas, Maxi. Je suis en deuxième année. Ça serait un grand plaisir de faire ta connaissance."⁽²⁾

The Bourbon Heir flashed Maxi a blinding grin with all white, perfectly rowed teeth. He was just a tad shorter than the older dark-haired boy, but Henri had yet to experiment a growth spurt, so it didn't really bother him to tilt his head back slightly as he conversed with his new acquaintance. Both of them must be making quite a sight at that moment--two handsome young students smiling at each other whilst standing in an equally lovely garden filled with blooming flowers of all colours. Henri could almost feel the curious and admiring gaze on them coming from whoever decided to venture into the courtyard at that moment as he ran a hand through his flawless platinum strands of hair, expression full of mirth.

"Le poème que tu es en train d'écrire, c'est un peu romantique, non?"⁽³⁾ He inquired, stepping forward to close the distance between them to eliminate all pretense of them being mere strangers. He wanted Maxi to become accustomed to his presence as soon as possible, within polite boundaries of course. "Pour un destinataire spécial, peut-être?"⁽⁴⁾

Henri regarded the other Pureblood with amusement, but his mind was filled with disdain for such a ridiculous notion. He'd always been repulsed by love and the concept of anything concerning romance. Such vulnerable emotions were no more than tools to control one's actions blindly without any rationality. He witnessed on the daily how besotted his useless father was with his repugnant mother, a woman that 'loved' nobody except herself and had the Bourbon patriarch wrapped around her dainty finger, always caving to her demanding needs. If that was what romance truly was, then Henri wanted none of it. He wasn't averse to using it to his advantages though. Emotions were so woefully easy to fabricate, after all.

WC: 526
(1)You can call me Henri. Nice to meet you.
(2)Don't worry about it, Maxi. I'm in second year. It'd be a great pleasure to be acquainted with you.
(3)The poem you're writing, it's a bit romantic, no?
(4)For a special recipient, perhaps?

As Maximilien "Maxi" de Fostoncy [x]
English · #586d9d | French · #056b68

interacts Henri de Bourbon (@Regina Miller)

banner by liana kerr

Putting on a polite smile on his lips, Maxi eyed the boy with interest. He wasn’t always able to make friends around thanks to his shy and reserved nature, and there were few times when he gathered the courage to stand up and offer his hand to a certain person. But when he did, it was proven successful. Determined that he should at least make this blond an acquaintance, the usually absent-minded Maxi paid full attention regarding this conversation.

Henri, good. He hadn’t met any Henries yet, but his last name did sound familiar. Perhaps Monsieur le Chevalier had mentioned it a few times when they were out walking in the gardens of the Château de Fostoncy - these kind of strolls were highly valued by the young boy, since this was one of the few chances that he would be able to take his mother’s arm and converse a couple of words with her - alright, back to the Bourbon name. Pureblooded, for sure. Almost immediately Maxi knew that his grandfather would be glad seeing this bond, and he became a bit reluctant - even though he had never held negative opinions regarding purebloods, he did not wish to please the elderly wizard - especially at such a time like this. And yet Henri was agreeable, and Maxi could not reject his charm. After all, he had already decided to offer a friendship towards the blond, not to mention that Maxi wasn’t known for being capricious at all events. He should be able to choose his own friends regardless of blood status and his family’s preferences, and while André - as a muggleborn - could be on the list, the pureblood heir Henri (he was a heir according to Maxi’s limited knowledge, wasn’t he?) could be as well. “The pleasure is all mine, Henri.” he replied in his usual gentle yet polite tone.

Even though a bit hesitate, he made up his mind to temporarily put it off. Refocusing his thought, Maxi listened to Henri with full attention. There was something weird about the blond, something - something charming. It somehow reminded him of André, who also seemed to have such aura around. Maxi felt that he was rather leaving a good impression on Henri, and that unexpectedly satisfied him. Friendship was very something Maxi was longing for, and for this he sometimes envied the popular students around the school. Dark grey eyes gently gazed at the handsome figure in front of him, when the other stepped forward and bridged the gap between them. Maxi wasn’t annoyed by this move, or rather, it made him feel that the friendship was coming close.

“Romantic…?” he repeated, after Henri. Really, he wasn’t very sure about that. His works were not exactly romantic - but what was the specific word to describe them? And if his grandfather had found out his rather weird hobby - ugh, Maxi would rather not think of it. “No, not exactly for a special person.” he hastily added. That was true, he wasn’t dating any person nor was he crushing on someone. Maxi had to admit that there had been several girls whom he once had his eyes on secretly, but unfortunately all the flames had died out. “For my own amusement, perhaps. I’ve always been a lover of poetry.” he admitted gently. This hobby wasn’t known by many people, perhaps a few only, and Henri was one of the lucky ones to learn it. But there was a word that exactly fit the genre his poems other than “romantic”…

Oh yes, he could finally remember it. Pastoral, that was it. He was writing about the rainy mornings and the wild moors, as well as the mooing cows and singing nightingales. Sometimes merry young ladies with wavy blonde hair would appear in his poems, but they weren’t waiting for their significant other. Instead, they were just enjoying the beautiful sunrise and singing along with the cool spring breeze. “My poems are pastoral-themed, I think.” he explained, while giving Henri a rather timid smile. “So not exactly romantic, but close.”