Did you know?

Victorians could hire 'professional mourners' to attend their loved one's funeral. These people would partake in the procession and were not allowed to speak, just look awfully sad! — Rune

— Submit your own —

"The Prodigal Sister" for Ophelia Devine. Faked deaths, scandal, and schemes!
Kristoffer was going to be great at this, because he was great at everything. Also his memory was greater than everyone else's, because he bet no one else had ever lost their virginity somewhere exotic like Morocco. Hell, he bet no one else had even lost their virginity. Inexperienced losers.

Kristoffer Lestrange in Shining, Shimmering Splendour

— Nominate a quote —
7 Deadly Sins

Complete seven threads, one where your character displays each of the Seven Deadly Sins — Pride, Lust, Sloth, Envy, Weath, Gluttony, and Greed. Each thread should be at least ten posts, with at least three being your own. Character accounts can be combined.


A Life Full of Regret
May 5th, 1888

The last five years had been torturous for the ex-auror. His entire routine had revolved around hiding in the corner of his cell in the hopes the Dementors would leave him alone. Unfortunately for Benedict, this was a distant dream with which he couldn't ever hope to catch.

When he was finally released and he felt the patter of raindrops on his face once more, Benedict realised that he needed to make amends. He had been wrong in his actions and though it was rooted deep within him that those not of pureblood were not deserving of their wizard and witch titles, the bloodpurist had begun to understand that tolerance was not the same as acceptance; he had learned to believe that he could tolerate them but not accept them. And with that knowledge, Benedict had made his way to Padmore Park to reflect on his previous actions.

On his way to the park, Benedict had become victim to various glares and snarky remarks; some people had even made a point to usher their children away from him. Each glance stung and each glare was like a piercing knife in his stomach.

Once he entered the park, a sense of dread overcame him: the last time he was here, there were four deaths and he had been arrested and subsequently sent to arguably the worst place in existence. Though he had not done the deed himself; the blood of each victim was  on his hands and he couldn't stand that feeling.

Adjusting his torn and tattered suit, Benedict moved to a shaded area of the park where few people passed. Of course, those that did tried their best to avoid him. Even if they didn't know him from the articles several years ago, his appearance was one that was far below his status five years ago.

Sighing, Benedict watched onward; his cane across his lap. He didn't know what to do with himself. All he could do was think.

And when he did, he was filled with remorse.
It was one thing for Mireille to be moody and angry at her own twin, it was a completely other thing to be sitting next to a murderer. She wondered if he was planning another attack in the park. She couldn't read him, couldn't tell if he was really as remorseful as he looked.  She felt her status as a 'pureblood' wrap her up and protect her. More often than not, she felt suffocated by the fact that she was both upperclass and pureblooded. She dared a nervous glace at the former Auror. It would be considered rude, would it not, for her to get up and walk away without at least saying something? But she was to nervous, to terrified, of saying something wrong and having blood, hypothetically, on her hands. So, she stayed silent. It didn't stop her from glancing his way to make sure he wasn't going to murder her, though.

Elaine made the pretties ♥
Benedict could feel the piercing glares from those walking past and yet the stare that hurt the most seemed to be coming from the person whom the former Auror had found himself sat next to; an invasion of his personal space by a piercing, hateful glance.

He had been out of Azkaban for only a month or so and his human interaction thus far had been pretty limiting. The Slums were not a pleasant place to be; he missed his old house.

Perhaps he could still go there; go back to the place where he had a happy family - maybe his children would be there. But then his wife wouldn't; she was buried in someone else's grave alongside his brother. He missed them.

He could feel her eyes watching him. He could sense the fear and tension and, if he were to be honest, he couldn't blame her for being apprehensive. He was very publicly sent to prison and though Benedict hadn't read the papers relating to the incident, he was certain they probably embellished the truth. Benedict didn't technically murder anyone at this park.

"I know what you're thinking," Benedict said with a quiet, gravelly voice without turning his gaze from the park in front of him, "I'm not going to kill anyone. I-...I didn't kill anyone before." His voice was rather timid; as if every word had a chain tied to them preventing them from leaving his mouth.
Mire didn't believe his words. 'I'm sure that's what you want to believe.' she replied after a few minutes. She didn't know if that was something she should say to a felon who obviously didn't want to admit that he'd had a hand in the murder of four. It had been his plan, even if he hadn't executed it. He was going to murder her. She was the only one talking to him, she was obviously his only target.

Elaine made the pretties ♥
Benedict sighed and shrugged. Of course people believed him to be the perpetrator of the crimes back in 1883. He was the main face of the attack; he had been sent to Azkaban for it but the murders - at least in the eyes of the law - were not his.

And Benedict was going to hold onto that fact until the day he died. The Wizengamot could never prove Benedict had plotted murders and there was no evidence that could place him as the one to commit the crimes. The most they had him arrested for was conspiracy.

"It's the truth," Benedict started. He wasn't lying, technically, "They never proved anything. I had no idea any crimes like that would..- would be committed. I just..." Benedict exhaled, "I just wanted to show the world what..." Benedict shuffled in his seat.

His tone was confident though it was clear he wasn't comfortable with his words; he wanted to forget but he could not allow anyone to believe him to be a murderer when he hadn't done anything! The worst crime he had committed, to Benedict, was being caught showing the word what bloodtraitors, mudbloods and halfbloods were like.

"I wanted the world to see weakness. And... I..- I'm sorry." Benedict looked to the floor, his voice trailing off.
The Pendergast Rose narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. Technically speaking, he was correct. He had never been found guilty of the actual murders, just that he’d known about what would happen that dreadful day and done nothing to stop it.

'Nobody should have died for any reason.' she did not understand what he meant by 'weakness' but the one thing she did understand was that nobody should've been killed for something they didn't understand.

Elaine made the pretties ♥
Nobody should have died.

Those words echoed through his head like the memories of that fateful night.

He wanted to agree. Benedict wanted so badly to just nod in agreement and say, yes. But he couldn't bring himself to.

Benedict knew what happened was awful; he'd suffered five years at the hands of Dementors. He's suffered five years in the company of himself. He'd lost everything because of his mistakes and however much he wished what had happened hadn't happened, he knew - rather, needed - it to happen.

He wanted the wizarding world to see the error of their ways: wizards were superior. Muggles were senseless, idiotic, and a stain on society. They were worthless and those who elected to integrate themselves with muggles or otherwise befriend them were just as bad.

Benedict shrugged, "Everything happens that is meant to happen." He said quietly, "I regret my actions - not the outcome."

Forum Jump:

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)