With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Apr 26, 2020 19:28:41 GMT
the state of dreaming
Isobel's hands trembled slightly as she turned the page over again. There was nothing here that indicated anything about Wolfgang, she knew. She had read through every line while he was at work, just in case she could figure out just what it was that Mia-Rose had seen in the documents.
But technically, there was nothing. Only a mention of Wolfgang and his brothers as the survivors from the family, and that was that. Still, the whole situation raised questions. She and Wolfgang had promised to be honest with each other, about as many things as possible, something that didn't come naturally to her. But even though it had been a struggle, letting him know the insecurities that she would never let a single other soul know about, she had done her best to try.
Had he?
That was all she wanted to know. She knew it would be painful, but if they were going to be so serious with each other as to live together, she felt like she needed to understand. Even if she would never meet his family--because from what she'd heard about them, she certainly didn't want to--the mystery bothered her. She didn't like mysteries that couldn't be solved.
A key turned in the apartment door, and then the sound of the hinges, a little squeaky, but it wasn't as if they used the front door all that much for it to be on their list of repairs. Isobel closed the folder, curling her fingers around the edges and taking a deep breath.
"Hi, Wolfgang," she said as he walked over, knowing her voice sounded more tense than normal. "I was wondering--can we talk about something? Take your shoes off and stuff, I'll be here whenever, alright?"
It was a bit odd, working at a muggle grocery store as the cashier. It certainly wasn't how he'd imagined his 17 summer going, if you'd asked him several months ago. But it was what he had to do to keep the apartment he'd rented out under Richard Linwood's name... Without the man's permission and with a little help from his wand. But what he -- and Isobel -- didn't know, wouldn't hurt them. And it wasn't like he was going to keep this charade up forever, not at all. A few more weeks, and then it would be back to Hogwarts for the both of them, and come next year, Wolfgang Kallenbach would be a completely legal adult in the parts of the world that mattered.
Today had been a rather calm one, without any strange customers, so the young man didn't feel like grabbing onto the nearest bottle of wine, once again, procured by means better not spoken of. His plan for the evening involved a shower for two, and a few more chapters of Dorian Grey before heading off to bed.
The door to the apartment closed behind him as he hooked his satchel in its place on the wall, and the voice of none other than Isobel Linwood reached his ears, asking him to get ready for a conversation. He kicked off his sneakers, not thinking twice of it -- there was probably some mundane muggle thing about the apartment that she wanted him to explain, like the toaster just last week. It absolutely baffled him how in the year 2019, so many wizards didn't have any concept of such simple topics that Muggle Studies were still necessary.
"Good evening, Isobel," he said, walking into the living room, giving her a warm smile, which soon turned into a puzzled expression. His girlfriend was pacing around the room with a manila envelope in hand.
"You've something on your mind?" he inquired while taking off his work jacket, placing it on the back of the nearest wooden chair.
MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0
1.75m (5'9")| Open relationship with ISOBEL LINWOOD | Bisexual | English
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
143 posts
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Apr 26, 2020 20:45:33 GMT
the state of dreaming
"Well--it's just," Isobel said, not sure how to start. There could be any number of questions. Why did the Ministry cover up your father's death? What really happened to him? Did he discover something that wasn't meant to be discovered? "We said that honesty was important, right?" she said instead.
The folder landed on the coffee table in front of the sofa, the soft ruffling of paper sounding far too loud to Isobel's ears. "It's probably nothing," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "but I had to ask about it." Grey eyes looked down at the folder, not meeting Wolfgang's. "I came across some news, that had your name in it. Or, actually, your father's name."
She sighed, knowing that the mere mention of the man would upset Wolfgang--she remembered him telling her about all the tension between his parents, how they each favored one child over the other, although neither Wolfgang. How they blamed blood for their problems, something that pureblood Isobel had never had to worry about.
"It's just that, all of it was really strange," she continued, "like it was in the news, and then out of nowhere, it wasn't. Even though it had to do with werewolves. I have to ask--did something strange happen? That I should know about, that maybe everyone should--just for their safety?"
By the way Isobel hesitated, this wasn't about toasters or microwaves, or anything else that Wolfgang would find terribly mundane and extremely amusing to explain at the same time. No, this was... This was serious. The sort of serious that made his fingers cramp up.
'Honesty was important, right?'
It was a lovely summer evening out there, but as those words left Isobel's mouth, the young man felt as if the temperature in the room had fallen below freezing at a moment's notice.
The folder landed on the coffee table, right there. All he had to do was reach for it. But before that he wanted to know what he'll find in it. Though, he didn't have to be a genius to find that out.
Ah. There we go. Father.
As soon as she'd mentioned that pathetic excuse of a human being, Wolfgang grabbed the folder, pouring its contents out on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch and frantically leafing through the file.
Here was the thing -- he had no clue what was in it. He'd paid off a few people who were supposed to make sure none of it ever saw the light of day. And yet, it was all on their coffee table, somehow in Isobel's possession, and from what she said, and what he read, it was nowhere near worth the money he'd spent on having his secrets buried.
He stared at the documents and the newspaper clippings, desperately trying to piece together a cover story, that it was something top secret, that Isobel had no business of knowing it, that Wolfgang had no business of knowing it, but the longer he stared at the official explanations, the clearer it was that they were of abysmal quality and you'd have to be an absolute imbecle to fall for it.
And Isobel was no imbecle.
He gathered everything back up, hastily shoving it into the folder and getting up, his movements sharp and a lot less elegant than usual.
"May I ask," he said, trying to not let on that he was finding it hard to breathe, "how did you come by this?"
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Apr 26, 2020 21:43:31 GMT
the state of dreaming
Isobel's heart was in her throat as she watched Wolfgang react. Somehow, it was exactly as she expected--at the very mention of his father, Wolfgang's whole demeanor changed, suddenly frantic and unsettled. Her hands curled into nervous fists at her sides as Wolfgang made a mess of her neat papers, his face full of an emotion that she couldn't entirely read, but that she didn't like one bit.
She didn't speak until after he spoke, the question not being one that she had anticipated, though she knew as soon as the words left his mouth that she should have prepared for it. It should be the truth, she knew deep inside, thinking of how she'd just phrased her own request. But Mia-Rose--did she deserve to get pulled into whatever this was? Her idiot sister might have stuck her nose into a situation it shouldn't be in, but Isobel felt it might be better to get the younger girl out of her relationship.
"Someone sent them to me," she said, and Mia-Rose had sent a letter, so if she thought about it hard enough, perhaps she could convince herself that she wasn't lying. "Anonymously--although I doubt it was Grace. I think I dealt with her enough last year for her to leave us alone."
Anonymous source. And I'm a goddamn ballerina? Longbottom? Wow, you didn't even bother to come up with a proper excuse.
Wolfgang wanted to laugh at Isobel's words. Not because they were in any way amusing, but because he didn't know what else to do. For a moment he just stared at the young woman across from him, his jaw ever so slightly ajar. Her fists were curled. Was she afraid of him? He didn't want to think that, but... If she hadn't until now, then soon she would.
That's one of the reasons why he hadn't told her. He'd know it would be like this - intense and undignified.
Then he walked over to the fireplace in the corner of the living room, tossing the open folder onto the ash and pulling his wand out, casting Incendio almost carelessly.
"It's all bullshit in there," he said, tucking his wand back into his pocket and walking over to the cupboard where they kept their liqour. He pulled out a bottle of strawberry vodka and a glass, placing them down on the coffee table and silently pouring himself three fingers worth of the liquid. The cap of the bottle fell out of his hands, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.
"You want honesty? I'll give you honesty," he continued, downing half of the glass in one go -- and coughing. It wasn't helping the tightness in his throat, but at least he had an excuse to have his eyes shut and not have to look at Isobel.
"The truth isn't something I could just casually tell you. Because, riddle me this -- how would the following phrase sound when said while eating burned toast in the morning?" He finished the glass -- or, more precisely, half of it spilled down his chin, staining his white t-shirt.
"Hello, Isobel! I paid several werewolves to kill my piece of shit of a father when I had barely turned sixteen?"
The cat was out of the bag, and now Wolfgang couldn't stop the words flooding out, looking straight at Isobel, gesturing forward.
"And then I paid some Ministry officials to keep it quiet, which they, as I see now, are incapable of doing, though that doesn't surprise me in the slightest!" He began striding around the room, keeping his distance from the woman, looking down at his feet as he kept talking.
"You know why I did it? Not only was he an adulterous bastard who cared not for the feelings of anyone else but him, but--" he turned to face her now, his eyes widening as his hands curled into fists, "The bruises! The bruises on my mother's arms! And on Johan's! I'm sure Daddy's Boy Ludwig only got warm embraces and all that he ever wanted! And the only reason I didn't get-- Because he didn't care to remember that I existed!"
At this point his heart was beating like he'd just ran two marathons without stopping, and he felt the need to grab onto something. Onto Isobel, but that wouldn't be welcomed, so instead he clutched the back of the couch, rocking back and forth, trying to steady his breathing.
"I didn't tell you, or anyone, because people always hear the parts that they want to hear. They'd hear the 'I had him killed' and wouldn't care to know anything more. And you? What will you take away from this?" Once more, he turned his head to look at her, but only for a moment. He couldn't bare looking at her, he couldn't bare knowing that he was being looked at, he wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole.
all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Apr 28, 2020 2:32:17 GMT
the state of dreaming
Isobel stumbled back, her legs nearly tripping over the edge of the rug on the floor, barely catching herself from tumbling to the floor ungracefully. The sudden outburst of rage was like nothing she had ever seen from him before, a dark emotion more suited to a werewolf than to the put-together, suave, intelligent boy who had...
...hired werewolves for murder.
It was that phrase which stuck in her head, and as Wolfgang gestured, as he yelled and spilled liquor down his shirt, Isobel felt incredibly small and incredibly frightened. Her whole body was frozen, barely able to move, and she didn't think she could have reached for her wand even if she'd thought about it. Her hands trembled, her eyes unable to leave Wolfgang's heaving form, as if the second she looked away, some dark tragedy would happen.
It felt like ice was running through every one of her veins, as the boy she'd let herself fall in love with mutated into something unrecognizable. She'd known his father was a bad person. And, hearing the way Wolfgang spoke about him as if he was Voldemort himself, she had to believe that it was true, no matter if she'd never known the man. But it was how alone she felt with the anger in the room, nobody else to bear the brunt of it except herself, that chilled her to the bone.
That made the back of her mind think, unprompted, what if I'm next?
She forced her eyes to tear themselves away from Wolfgang, to look at where the remnants of her folder were still smoldering in the fireplace, a little pot of Floo Powder on top of the mantle.
Wolfgang was between her and the door, and even if she were to leave that way, where would she go? She wasn't carrying any Muggle money--Wolfgang handled the Muggle things. So even if going to her grandparents' was an option at the moment, she wasn't sure how she would get there--no broom, no money. But the fireplace...
"I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice rougher than she thought it would be. "I can't--I can't stay here." She took a step sideways toward the fireplace. "I'm so sorry." Those last words were barely above a whisper, her voice trembling. "I'll be at home." The home that she never wanted to be at, truly--but the place with her own bed, where she could shut the door and sob and wonder where it all went wrong, ask herself why her heart was breaking so hard.
A pinch of powder, and the embers of the papers leaped into green flame.
The tremble in Isobel's voice was the final straw. There she was, running away, hearing only what she wanted to hear rather than listening, rather than even trying to understand. It was just how'd he'd predicted, just how he'd known it would go.
And he just... let her, not even sparing her a glance as she stepped into the fireplace to run away from him as if the full moon was in bloom and he was a bloodthirsty werewolf.
He wanted to scream. To tear his throat open, just so he could breathe, to break his ribs so his heart could leap out of its cage, perhaps it would hurt less then, perhaps he could feel less--
Full body tremors swept him away, making him sit down on the floor, trying his hardest to pull air into his lungs, with no relief at all, no matter how deep or fast his breathing was. Soon enough, the floor was the ceiling and the sun was setting on the east.
And the last bits of the accursed folder shriveled up in the fireplace, nothing more than grey dust.
MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0
1.75m (5'9")| Open relationship with ISOBEL LINWOOD | Bisexual | English
