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 It's all uphill from here, Flo <3
Archibald Munn
 Posted: Apr 18 2017, 12:09 AM
Quote
Stells
7th
Pureblood
Slytherin
17 YEARS
68 posts
Offline
Fundamentally, people hate women

Rep: 3 pts [ + | - ]
Awards: 3



When one aims to be perfect there is nothing more important than being in control, than organization, than neatness, than being able to know exactly what will happen and when will it happen. That way, there’s no room for mistakes, no room for unexpected turns or for any sort of dilemma. It would have been ideal if things were that way, if he could have always been one step ahead and never faced any difficulties. Sadly, life was far from ideal, and difficulties just seemed to love being involved in Archie’s affairs. He had learned to deal with it, to be prepared for any kind of situation, to do his best in order to be in control - keeping carefully program routines and a schedule- but it was never enough, was it?

He hated it. All of it. He hated when things didn’t go the way he planned, he hated when people got in his way, and he mostly hated those which resulted to be completely unpredictable. It was all just really frustrating. As if trying to keep composure while walking up the steepest of hills with a muddy floor on which he kept on slipping. Archibald Munn’s life was nothing than one long walk uphill, and people like Florentin Deschamps were the mud. At some point since his transfer to Hogwarts he had even been happy, once he had settled down and accepted his new reality, once he had established a routine and even learned to like things about that place -the weather, the greenhouse, and even some people who he could call friends. But Spring is an unpredictable season, and sometimes clouds of gray appear to steal away sunlight from the beautiful Lemon balm for which he spent so much time caring.

In the Spring of his life at Hogwarts, clouds of gray came in the form of one particularly feminine French, one which served as a daily reminder of so many of the things Archie hated, particularly his sisters. The problem was that even he had to admit the guy was pretty, even prettier than many of the girls at the castle, and while the snake felt no attraction towards Florentin or any of the members of the so very treacherous female species, it just resulted to be very exasperating. He didn’t need more girls in his life, he certainly didn’t need a guy who looked like one, especially not one with a terrible attitude who acted like he was better than anyone when really he was, well...quite pathetic from Archibald’s most humble perspective.

It irked him. Partly because he couldn’t understand how he could get away with it all, how a pureblood family could be proud of a heir who acted in such a way when it went against everything ever taught by his own father. Though, arguably, Albert Munn had very specific perspectives on what it meant to be the male heir of a pureblood family and how such an individual should behave in order to be respected. So, every time Archie looked at Florentin Deschamps, all he could really do was huff in frustration, full of condescending glares which were often followed by equally condescending words - the boy may have acted perfect, yet in his book, that also meant being opinionated. After all, a Munn was always right, for truth was their ideal.

That day he had not expected to find Deschamps there as soon as he entered their dormitory, sitting in his bed and surrounded by what Archie had come to recognize as beauty products after years spent living with two horrible sisters. Seriously? Disgusting. “If you need to do so much in order to look pretty, then maybe you aren’t as beautiful as you so desperately want people to believe” he commented passingly as he head for his bed, words unemotional despite their clear intention, and without even bothering to take a second glance at his annoying dorm mate.

@Florentin Deschamps
|Clothes|

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Florentin Deschamps
 Posted: Apr 18 2017, 10:20 AM
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Tine
7th
Pureblood
Slytherin
17 YEARS
468 posts
Offline
Neutral
Looks still cute but lips are sore

Rep: 6 pts [ + | - ]
Florentin DeschampsSlytherin Novice
Awards: 27



Those times when Florentin had the dorm all for himself were rare enough, as there was usually always someone around. It was annoying when it was Leander who would always find something to complain about ever since the French boy had accidentally claimed his bed on the day of his transfer - not that Flo had corrected his own mistake, instead he had simply insisted that this bed belonged to him now. Persistence was important - and how were the drones of Hogwarts supposed to accept him as their queen if he let go so easily? Either way, he gladly ignored all troublesome thoughts for the moment, because he had spilled the whole content of his cosmetics back on the wrinkled sheets of his bed, as it was time for the biannual check of expired products. He did it with a certain passion - looking at the tiny dates charmed on the lids of every single product so he could trace back when he had first opened them, adding either six or twelve months in order to figure out whether a product had expired or not.

Only few bottles were thrown away, as Florentin Deschamps was not someone who bought by impulse - the products he used were too expensive to be wasted, even with the generous amounts of galleons he had at his expense, ready to be exchanged for muggle money and invested in primer, fixing powder, concealer and all those little helpers that were meant to last when a beauty charm lost its power. It was the boy’s safety net, even though he knew that the products rarely lasted longer than the charms which were executed with great care every morning. In the structured mess around him, there were makeup brushes with handles that looked like unicorn horns, the hair colourfully dyed. There was a silver set of a hairbrush and a mirror, decorated with elegant ornaments and a mermaid’s head on the back of the brush, next to several bottles with cream-coloured liquids and a set of lip balms, the label stating one tasted like vanilla, the other like cherry. Florentin always ignored vanilla for the sake of having lips that tasted like freshly plucked cherries.

The young man had been so caught up in his doings that he had not heard the door opening, his shoes discarded in front of the bed and legs elegantly crossed while his hair fell in luscious cascades over his shoulders and his back. Single strands of honey-gold were falling into his face while slender fingers were holding onto a small glass bottle that contained primer, trying to find the label he had charmed on it. Yet he froze in the movement as those words full of disdain cut through the air, pale, azure eyes slowly settling on the shape of Archibald Munn - a hated and yet familiar sight. Florentin tried not to bother with the result, yet they were touching a string deep inside him, triggering all those moments of self-consciousness that had woken some day before puberty had done its deed, causing him to glamour what little flaw had appeared on his skin during those years with layer upon layer of beauty charms.

He swallowed down the fact he was hurt, instead tilting his head just a little and offering Archibald a saccharine-sweet smile - much like a crocodile that was about to devour a little duckling which had dared crossing its path. “If you would use only one of these products, you would finally look like an acceptable person instead of looking like…. that.” Flo allowed himself the short, dramatic pause, raising a brow at his dormmate before he moved with unexpected speed, throwing the primer bottle at the taller snake - although he did not quite trust in his aiming skills thanks to the dunk tank happenings.

@Archibald Munn

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Archibald Munn
 Posted: Apr 18 2017, 11:38 PM
Quote
Stells
7th
Pureblood
Slytherin
17 YEARS
68 posts
Offline
Fundamentally, people hate women

Rep: 3 pts [ + | - ]
Awards: 3



If someone were to ask Archibald Munn if he had a happy childhood, there would without a doubt be a moment of hesitation, gaze of thunder clouds fixing on his interrogator before responding with a simple shrug and a statement that implied it was indeed quite adequate. Like the childhood of many, there were those moments which the boy remembered fondly, the afternoons playing with his younger brother and together exploring the forests of Berkshire, making sure never to wander too far away from the manor and to always return before dinnertime - much to the dismay of his adventurous sibling. He remembered the worry and mostly being there to make sure the younger boy didn’t get hurt, and he remembered having to carry him on his back on their way home whenever such a thing inevitably happened. He also remembered their father, the scoldings he took for the sake of his brother, and all the good moments spent with the man, all the lessons, all the stories from his work and all the things that had made him grow to admire and idolize his dad.

Those were the good memories, the memories which made his childhood happy, yet they always came to contrast with the bad ones. Like the simple fact that Archie couldn’t remember a day when his sisters had smiled at him (unless doing so in the most sarcastic and mischievous of manners), it may have happened when he was too young to remember, during his infant days when the girls too were young and innocent, but whatever fondness they may had had for their brother soon abandoned them before he could remember it. They were two years older and often seemed hellbent on tormenting him, twins, spending every moment in his presence attempting to bring tears to the boy’s eyes. And when he complained they just ran to their mother, hiding under the protection of a woman who always seemed to give them more affection than what she ever did Archie.

So, truly, could he be blamed for disliking females with a childhood like that one? For distrusting them and being wary of their every action? Althea and Alvyna were the demons that haunted him, as was his mother, those from which he could not escape for they were bound by the ties of family. Yet, there was nothing tying him to Florentin Deschamps, not friendship, no respect, not affection, or any kind of liking. There was nothing to stop him from being as rude and cruel as he wished to be, for the French boy was most definitely a disappointment to everything which was considered true pureblood standards by the Munn family. Sure, he may have tried to play nice, been engaged and all that jazz, but Archie knew better than to be fooled by cheap theatrics. Just like the makeup hid the truth about Florentin, so did his actions.

For example, that smile, so much alike those given to him by his sisters when they were pretending to play nice. He quirked a brow at the words, about to reply when the bottle was thrown. It could have hit him, or it could have not, either way, years of almost being forced to play Quidditch in order to please his father and training as a Keeper had taught him to instinctively catch all things thrown his way. Eyes fixed on the small item for a second, and he could have thrown it back, though sadly his aim was that of no Chaser and he doubt he would hit his target soundly. Instead, he did the next best thing, throwing the primer bottle at the wall and watching it break into countless pieces, spilling its content. “I hardly care for your standards on what’s acceptable, or meeting them, as they’re clearly misguided and below me.” Archie replied then, words cold and emotionless contrasting with the gentle smile that accompanied them.

Two could play that game, and childhood had taught him how to defend himself. With a quiet huff, he walked towards his bed, sitting down as if the argument were over and done with and he hadn’t just broken something which did not belong to him.

@Florentin Deschamps

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Florentin Deschamps
 Posted: Apr 20 2017, 12:25 PM
Quote
Tine
7th
Pureblood
Slytherin
17 YEARS
468 posts
Offline
Neutral
Looks still cute but lips are sore

Rep: 6 pts [ + | - ]
Florentin DeschampsSlytherin Novice
Awards: 27



It was easily assumed that something in Florentin’s childhood had gone terribly wrong. There was the mother who wanted daughters and not sons - the mother who had never wanted children in the first place, and shaped them after her wishes when they had been there. Boys dressed in small dresses, their hair long and their toys so feminine. Something had stuck from those days, even if it was just the religious beauty routine and the admiration of doing other people’s hair and dressing them in flattering clothes, just like he had always enjoyed to dress his dolls in cute little dresses and brush their hair for hours. He did not want others to understand, and Florentin had been raised with enough confidence to be himself as far as it was possible for him without angering his family. No one cared about how many beauty products he used and how feminine it might appear as long as there were no scandals tied to his name.

So many things were fake in his life: the engagement he had been forced into while he despised girls, and was utterly disgusted by the shape of their body, those soft curves and wobbly bosoms they were displaying. One day, he had been in the prefect’s bathroom - illegally - and had seen more of Gretchen Kirke-Faust’s body than he had ever wanted to, and it only confirmed his beliefs that girls were demons and needed to be avoided at all costs. Not to mention that they were opponents in getting attention, and a Deschamps never liked to share - especially not the spotlight. His beauty was not faked, it was merely enhanced; what little insecurities he had carefully piled up and yet hidden behind all those charms and bottles, fixing powder holding the breaking facade of what Florentin Deschamps was together - that was what fixing powder was for, after all: to fix things.

The biggest fake in his life might as well have been his smile - as artificial and sweet as saccharine, and always there when it was needed. Especially here, at Hogwarts, where he had never wanted to be in the first place. Now he had to be here, and the fake smile was frozen on his face like the one painted on a very expensive and exclusive china doll. When the bottle left his hand in a sudden moment of loss of control, Florentin did not know what he had intended to do - whether he had wanted to chase Archibald away or actually hit him with it, hurt him in order to make him go away. Yet his jaw dropped as he watched the boy catch the bottle instead - with a display of both skill and grace he had not expected. There was a second - two heartbeats - of a break before the other boy threw the bottle against the wall where the glass shattered, ivory-coloured liquid slowly running down the tapestry while the shards sparkled gently in the dim light of the dorm.

Florentin’s pale gaze wandered from Archibald to the bottle and back again, fist clenched as he looked at the other snake in this room. The words barely touched him, as they meant nothing. Instead, he gave the same smile back. “You should have used it instead of breaking it, maybe it would have fixed at least a bit of all this,” he purred, almost dangerously calm before his tone changed to something colder. “You will replace this.” Oh, he was going to make him pay for it and hand it over like a present, like a token of affection.

@Archibald Munn

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Archibald Munn
 Posted: Apr 21 2017, 01:35 AM
Quote
Stells
7th
Pureblood
Slytherin
17 YEARS
68 posts
Offline
Fundamentally, people hate women

Rep: 3 pts [ + | - ]
Awards: 3



There were those people in Archie’s life who he considered worthy of kindness, the people he respected, cared for, and sometimes even admired. They were few, the boy was most definitely selective about who he let into his life, yet for them he would have done almost anything, allowing them those privileges which were denied to the rest of the world - the right to touch him without him feeling utterly uncomfortable about it, affection, words of encouragement, trust, forgiveness of their wrongs, little to no judgemental comments regarding their actions, and the promise that none of their secrets would be spread around the like wildfire (unlike those of the rest of the school’s population). People like his younger brother, and people like his friends… like Elliot, and Njord, and even Felix, as the criteria to fit in that list varied from one person to the other and sometimes friendships just seemed to happen without him even realizing.

Still, someone like Florentin Deschamps would never fit in that list, and Archie had more than one valid reason for this (or at least valid to his eyes). It wasn’t just about his sisters, since he would have hated every single female in that school if such were the case, and while he did distrust them and would much rather not interact with them, the snake rarely hated someone for the sole sake of hating them. It had more to do with his dorm mate’s attitude, with the way he went against everything his father had once told him a good heir to a pureblood family should be, with how he so shamelessly acted the way he did. Maybe it even had to do with jealousy, as from the movement of his birth everything Archie said, did and was, had been defined by others, molded to his parent’s liking into the perfect son which would bring pride to the Munn family. Not like he would ever admit to that last part, obviously.

From his point of view it had been his choice, as there was this deep seeded need to honour the name which had been granted to him, to follow the footsteps of the father he idolized and to be someone who could add to the greatness of their linage. Not like Florentin Deschamps would ever understand such things, as the other boy seemed much too preoccupied with how he looked to care about anything else in the world. Sure, Archie was concerned with his own appearance too, clothes always looking neat and never a single hair out of place, always stylish and always giving the best impression possible, though never to the extent of even considering makeup, as -from his own experience- all makeup was good for was hiding the truth and being used as a horrible torture device. His sisters were definitely quite creative when it came to the latter.

Maybe it would have fixed at least a bit of all this. Now, while Archie did care about his appearance, about his reputation and about the opinions others may had had of him, he only cared about that of those who mattered, and while that usually involved most of pureblood high society, disappointments like Florentin Deschamps weren’t a part of it. So, he chose to ignore the words, laying down on his bed and grabbing one of the books placed on his nightstand, as if that whole interaction was done and over with. Oh but Florentin always had something else to say, didn’t he? The change in tone not coming unnoticed and bringing a slight frown to the snake’s expression. He was kidding, wasn’t he? “Why should I do that? You should have considered the possibilities before throwing it like an impulsive child having a tantrum over insult” he responded, smirk curving his lips...and that probably wasn’t going to make things any better, but it wasn’t like he cared for it anyways. To his eyes, that boy was as insignificant as a very annoying fly (and as disgusting as one too).

@Florentin Deschamps

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Florentin Deschamps
 Posted: Apr 26 2017, 12:37 PM
Quote
Tine
7th
Pureblood
Slytherin
17 YEARS
468 posts
Offline
Neutral
Looks still cute but lips are sore

Rep: 6 pts [ + | - ]
Florentin DeschampsSlytherin Novice
Awards: 27



His hate for Hogwarts and everyone and everything within the castle had calmed down - it had been so much worse in the beginning when the constricting feeling of sickness had gently choked him every time he entered a classroom, and when he had cried himself to sleep behind closed curtains, face pressed against the pillows and blanket pulled over his head. Florentin’s nights were still anything but calm - they had been calm back at the chalet in Switzerland, when Sigurd’s breathing had been the only sound he had to deal with before falling asleep, but here they were troubled and left him with dark circles underneath his eyes, and therefore the reason for the assortment of makeup that was currently spread all around him on the bed. He was not going to go as far and admit weakness in front of any of his roommates, and especially not in front of Archibald Munn, fils de pute.

Florentin did not know on what kind of throne the other snake was putting himself, but in this kingdom there was no room for two thrones and two kings, so one of them would have to leave - even if Flo had come here later than Archibald. There was a war raging, and it had not started with the words that had been tossed in the French boy’s direction. Eventually, it had started much earlier, because their interactions had never been nice - mostly because Florentin did not make a policy out of being nice to people who were not Sigurd, Honoré and Martín. His attention was focused on the primer that was currently dripping from the wall, while he told himself that there was no emotional value attached to this product, that it could be so easily replaced that he did not have to worry about it. Yet it was the principle of the whole situation that made him rage as he pushed his fragile body off the bed. Munn still had an inch on him, but it mattered little as the boy was lying down, anyway.

Watching his dormmate reaching for a book and completely ignoring him was almost worse than getting insulted. The boy’s slender fingers wrapped around one of the makeup brushes, the handles all sharp at the end due to the unicorn horn shape. His thumb caressed the lines and the sparkles that decorated the brush as he took a few steps towards the other’s bed, only pausing to listen to what Archibald had to say - not that it really mattered. Still it hurt to be called a child, especially with the addition of the words impulsive and tantrum. “Getting something thrown your way does not justify breaking it - unless it does in whatever barn you were raised,” he added sweetly with a bat of lashed.

The French boy’s fingers were still wrapped around the handle of the brush, while his other hand found his wand, ready to draw it if Archibald dared attacking first. Not that he expected much from his dormmate who seemed to be more of a doormat the more he considered it - and if Florentin had any ideas of the fine arts of twisting English words in the right way. He would rather use his wand - or the brush, for that matter - than waste any more carefully created insults at this boy, but there was something as close to anger as possible in the pretty young man’s azure eyes when they stayed settled on the taller boy on the bed, whole body tense like a horse moments before it was going to jump.

@Archibald Munn

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Archibald Munn
 Posted: Apr 27 2017, 11:59 AM
Quote
Stells
7th
Pureblood
Slytherin
17 YEARS
68 posts
Offline
Fundamentally, people hate women

Rep: 3 pts [ + | - ]
Awards: 3



As it did have a tendency to happen with most ancient lineages, within pureblood families often existent a clear distinction between the name and the people attached to it, the former gaining much more importance than the latter. The preservation of a name, of their heritage, of their pride and prestige, often resulted to be the most important thing to the head of any family, and they would have turned their backs to anyone who dared attempt to jeopardize these things. He had seen it happen first hand a few years ago, when his sister had been involved in a terribly scandalous situation and their father immediately considering disowning Alvyna despite the love he so clearly had for all his children. And back then, Archibald had agreed with such decision, even if no one had asked for his opinion, not because of his dislike for his sister, but simply because even then he understood the importance of preserving their family name.

In many ways, back then he had felt betrayed, by the sister who put her own selfish desires above the wellbeing of the Munns and by the mother who chose to go against Albert Munn’s wishes and stopped him from disowning their daughter. And so, Alvyna’s name remained in that beautiful family tree of their, not erased or forgotten, despite the fact that many had lost their right to be called a Munn for less. So, even though Archibald had nothing distrust for his sisters, for his mother, even though some days he may have even felt like he despised them, he still loved the Munn name, and he surely wasn’t just going to sit there and let anyone insult it in the slightest of ways.

He shouldn’t have cared for the words of Florentin Deschamps, it shouldn’t have affected him in the slightest of ways. Despite being a pureblood, that boy was clearly below him, a disappointment to the family he belonged to and no one that Archie should have even bothered speaking to. Yet it had affected him, and his gaze raised from the recently opened book, finding Deschamps and staring as if the sharpest of iron swords. Soon, the book found itself closed once again, resting on the bed as long and slender fingers wrapped around the all too familiar handle of a wand, watchful stare never leaving his dorm mate. He was aware of the other’s wand, of the brush, though he did not care anymore, as to the mind of Archibald Munn there were things that resulted to be all too important to ignore, and only a couple were more important than the reputation of the Munn name.

So, he stood, calm and composed despite everything, as the tall snake surely wasn’t one to have rageful outbreaks of violence. Oh no, punching people was barbaric, for savages, and not how problems like those were solved by members of the Munn family. If two snakes are pit against each other, which one wins: the one who strikes first or the one most venomous? Usually, Archibald was not one to strike first, yet as he stared at his dorm mate the looming dark clouds of a storm were soon filled by threatening thunder, and found himself raising his wand, describing the almost serpentine hand movement of a jinx which felt as if it had been practiced a thousand times. “Flipendo.”

Of course, he hadn’t had the intention of throwing spells left and right inside their dormitory, but if worst came to worst, a Munn never backed down from a duel. “Let’s make one thing clear, Deschamps. While I do care little for your delusions of adequacy and how much shame or disappointment you may bring upon your family, I have no intention of allowing a tawdry pureblood as you to even attempt insulting mine.”

@Florentin Deschamps

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