Banner by: Liana Kerr

Paris, France. 10th August 2021. Early afternoon.
Interacting with Lucietta Mahler (@Everly Charlton)
Colour code - #00364a - #9a244f
Outfit
English | French | Spanish | German

𝕾ummer came fast to France that year, as music from street cafes turned up to full volume. The sky blazed blue and the sun was a celebration of yellow, free and bright. The trees rose to the occasion, donning their best verdant hues, and everywhere were the flowers, the scattered rainbow that they were. Under the Paris summer sun one could feel the warmth of those brilliant rays, of light granting the world new vibrant colours, softly brushing smiles upon faces and hearts. Jazz begin in the way folks sauntered, in the way their eyes danced upon meeting. Perhaps that was why the warmth came from within just as much, why the playing begins from youngest to old. It was when the laughter got dialed up and jokes ran free, it was when hugs travel on the breeze as sweet as any summer bloom.

There was one person, however, whom not even the incandescent atmosphere could genuinely bring the similar sort of warmth and joy.

Henri squinted slightly against the irritating sunlight, one hand reaching up over his silver grey eyes to block it out as he shifted closer to the shade. He was walking leisurely on the pavement, occasionally flashing a dazzling (empty) smile at any individual whose gaze lingered on him while trying to banish the all too familiar infuriation simmering underneath his skin. Henri wanted to be anywhere but here, stranded in the middle of Muggle Paris alone without his caretakers' supervision because he couldn't stand to be within ten miles radius of his idiotic parents who were infinitely besotted with his 'darling' little sister. Charlotte was almost two years old, and she was already a demanding baby. His Mother Juliette was completely enamoured with the infant, as did his Father Guillaume, and they seldom even spared their undesirable son any glance. They hadn't even inquired him about his first year at Beauxbatons for an entire month since the summer holidays had started and it came to the point where Henri had stormed out of the Château to stop himself from picking up his wand and cursing them all.

"Qu'ils aillent tous au Diable,"(*) Henri cursed under his breath, his magic aura spiking dangerously. His handsome features twisted into something so incredibly vicious that it scared a passerby walking close to him in the opposite direction.

The de Bourbon Heir halted in his tracks, his eyelids closing shut as he took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. It wouldn't do well to lash out lest his magic become incontrollable in a place full of Muggles, and it would severely damage his carefully constructed public image of a charming young boy. Henri was momentarily grateful for his spontaneous decision to come here--his caretakers would be able to catch him in an instant if he had remained in Wizarding Paris. In this part of the city, no Muggle knew who he was or which surname he carried, and the clothes he currently wore could pass as Muggle enough for them not to notice anything out of place. Henri would finally be allowed a moment of respite. His steps soon resumed as the bubbling anger slowly died down, shoved inside a box that locked away all of his more primal emotions in favour of keeping up his mask.

The blond's contemptible parents wouldn't even notice his disappearance until perhaps late into the evening, if they would even care at all. He idly wondered how long could he leave his caretakers searching for him in panic, sending them on a chase with no leads nor clues. Henri felt the corners of his lips subtly lifting into an amused smirk--he didn't know pathetic emotions as love, but he surely did know joy and morbid glee from toying with other people.

Once again, Henri came to a stop when he spotted a girl with hair as platinum as his standing in the middle of the street, looking a little lost. A foreigner, perhaps? With careful examination, he noted a slight similarity in her facial traits which he shared, and this uncanny discovery unsettled him. This might not mean anything, of course, as look-alike strangers weren't uncommon...but still. Henri straightened himself and put a handsome smile on his face as he approached the girl with purposeful steps, deciding to greet her in English, the universal language. His knew his French accent would make it a little hard to understand, but he'd conversed enough with his British cousins in the past to perfect his vocabulary.

"Hello, mademoiselle. Can I help you with anything? You seem rather lost there."

WC: 765
(*)Damn them all to the Devil.

──────────────────────────────❀──────────────────────────────

If it hadn't been expressed enough yet, Lucietta would state it again. Her parents despised traveling.

Washington had been a stretch, she thought, even for Leon, but no. One thing she now knew not to underestimate Leon on was his resilience. Washington did nothing but help boost his confidence, as he pestered their parents for weeks on end. Washington also did nothing but help further their parents' rebuttal, as they almost seemed even more adamant against going to Europe, which Leon had deemed his next goal. They suggested New York, California, and even Mexico, all of which Leon refused. Europe, he said.

Lucietta had genuinely thought her parents might've won this one. Leon once again proved her wrong, as the next morning, her mother had begrudgingly told him they would go over summer break, somewhere in Europe.

France, he said.

Lucietta was half-convinced her mother had imploded.

At first, Mathilde had refused. Lucietta had been perplexed—hadn't she said a moment ago she would go? What was so terrible about France? Eventually, her father—who'd always seemed less averse to traveling than her mother, anyway—convinced her to go, as he couldn't possibly manage all three of them over a week's time period without something happening.

They'd been out touring that day, in Paris, the city of love. Lucietta's parents could've been sprinting as they ran around, dragging the twins behind them, Lucietta quietly wandering behind. She'd always been considered low maintenance next to her brothers, so her parents didn't supervise her as much. Every so often, though, her mother would turn to glance back at her, with a mixed look. Mathilde looked conflicted but would smile whenever they made eye contact.

France was peaceful, but alive, in a way Lucietta couldn't quite capture. Entranced, she stood, stranded in the middle of the road. It took a while before she realized the hand she'd been holding—oh no, where had her brother gone?—had escaped, dangling loosely at her side as the other hugged a sketchbook to her chest. She fumbled with the objects in her hand, lifting to reach into the tote bag slung around her shoulder, digging through the embroidered bag for—her phone, yes, thank god she'd remembered to bring it—and coming up empty-handed. Lucietta frowned.

A voice behind startled her, the sketchbook falling to the ground in a mess of pages. Flustered, Lucietta picked it up quickly, flipping the pages in order and dropping it back into the bag. Her cheeks were flushed when she finally met the stranger's glance again, whose features she noted with uncanny similarity to hers. She brushed it off, though. Twin strangers were common.

His French accent muddled his words, and she hurried to respond in a language that hopefully made more sense. Her parents had always been resolute in their decisions to have her learn multiple languages. She'd studied both German, from where her father was, and English, and later picked up on French, from where her mother was. Her brothers had stopped after German and English, finding it too tedious to continue, but Lucietta found the opposite. "Hi! Um, I'm fine. I can speak French if that's easier. Um. I am lost, though." If possible, the flush on her face darkened even more.

henri de bourbon [@regina miller]====
english german french==
545 | 08/10/21==

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────