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Daniel Foulkes-Davenport

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Daniel Foulkes-Davenport last won the day on August 8 2017

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About Daniel Foulkes-Davenport

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    The protagonist never dies

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  1. [1837/1838][EN] The Golden Age

    No argument about the wine, no snarky comment about the menu, or for that matter about the stuffy-looking waiter who seemed to be far too warm in his many layers obligatory for a restaurant such as this. It was a wholly different experience from taking Daniel to dinner, the father of both reflected as he had another sip of wine and looked at Phoenix in the shimmery pleasant light. Daniel had many witty remarks over a plate of hospital food. Or a glass of milk, if the mood took him. It was not so much that one experience was better than the other, but it was at least a relief to notice that it was not something about Thurion that ensured that none of his male offspring could have a normal conversation without lapsing into poetry. He’d often wondered what made Daniel do that. But then he’d often wondered about what made Daniel do any of the things he did, because the boy seemed not so much intrinsically motivated as intrinsically not so. Curiosity, he supposed, about people’s thoughts, their reactions... In that regard, Phoenix’s choice of studies seemed oddly apropos. Perhaps his sons shared more resemblance than initially met the eye... perhaps in fact it was all nurture, Daniel raised so loved and so nourished, Phoenix so poorly regarded, barely maintained. “Psychology? Really,” he asked with a smile, and he thought that he could discern something of a question in Phoenix’s tone, as though the boy was wondering what his newfound father thought of his intended course of an academic career. Indeed, Thurion certainly had opinions on this, but it would take him a little bit to find how best he ought to put those opinions across. “Why? Not... offensively,” he chuckled, “just curious about your motivations. The desires make the man, don’t they? Those and the clothing.” See, Thurion, this is why Daniel can have poetic commentary on anything. Oh well. “And then to become a psychologist? In some kind of practice? Of course, they’re very useful studies,” he agreed, as their starters were laid out and the waiter told them in French of course what was on the plates - he waved him away, he was making a point and he could see that it was what it had said on the menu, could he not. “Human interaction, human behaviour... understanding them better is useful in any profession. But don’t you think it’s the kind of course where you’ll always have to tack something on to apply it?”
  2. [1837/1838] She moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.

    Het was maar goed, dat hij bij Cadwyn niet op dezelfde manier last had van zijn kwaaltjes als normaal, want als hij dat wel had gehad dan zou hij misschien snel wat minder gecharmeerd zijn geweest van haar rappe ratelen, van haar continue enthousiasme dat nooit helemaal anders dan kinderlijk was geworden ook al was de rest van haar dat wel. Hij was daar uiteindelijk een beetje op gevallen, vond het een van haar voornaamste attracties, maar hij kon het zich voorstellen dat het ook een beetje zou kunnen gaan vervelen, zeker als je er zelf eigenlijk te moe of te ziek voor was. Echter, op het moment was het eerder bevestigend, een weerspiegeling van zijn eigen humeur, want door de hoeveelheid energie die hij van haar kreeg voelde hij zich direct op haar niveau, voelde hij zich jonger en vrolijker en maakte het hem ook allemaal wat minder uit. “Indianen, nou, schat, weinig. Dat zijn vooral mooie verhaaltjes, lieverd.” Niet echt, natuurlijk, er waren zeker tribes in Canada, maar het kostte teveel moeite om daarop in te gaan. Daniel wist er ook weinig van af. De Foulkes-Davenports kregen er wel eens mee te maken voor hun werk. Gek genoeg gingen ze er verrassend goed mee om. Kennelijk kon je niet overal een verschrikkelijke klootzak over zijn als familie. Zelfs niet als je heel erg je best deed allemaal. “En ja, magisch hebben ze die, die ken ik wel. Ik zal het voor je laten maken. Wil je het op de hele muur meteen anders, snoes?” Daar draaide hij zijn hand niet voor om, immers. Letterlijk, daar gingen zijn handen niet mee bezig zijn, die hadden wel wat beters te doen, zoals kijken hoe Cadwyn voelde na haar maandjes weer terug op Zweinstein. Schilderen, daarvoor zou hij fijn de schilder vragen. “Ik heb jou ook gemist, schat, en dit is je bijbaantje. Ons, Elaine en mij, een beetje gezelschap houden.” Stik, ze had haar leven voor hem opgegeven. In haar bijzijn sloeg dat besef hem niet knock out, zoals het zou doen als hij op zijn eigen hart erdoorheen moest, maar aangenaam was het nog steeds niet. Daniel deed niet zo aan dure beloften, maar op dat moment deed hij er eentje, een kleintje, aan zichzelf: hij ging goed voor haar zorgen. Hij ging ervoor zorgen dat ze niets tekort kwam. En dat ze gelukkig kon worden. En dat begon met winkelen, dus Verdwijnselde hij met haar naar het warenhuis en begon met dingen in een vliegend mandje te gooien. “Wil je ook wat dingen passen? Wil je nog wat balspelen - dat vond je leuk, toch? En Desmond kan altijd een keertje langskomen als ie wil, de bengel.” Hij grijnsde in zichzelf want Desmond was een blauwe dogooder. Maar dat zei je niet tegen de gele variant.
  3. [1837/1838][EN]No better relation than a prudent and faithful friend

    “I doubt that that’s the only drawback,” Daniel chuckled. “Although quite possibly it all outweighs the benefit of being free at Christmas and New Year.” Oh dear, there he’d put his foot in it of course, because this Christmas Phoenix’s mother had died, but there was no way to render spoken words unsaid again and so he let it go. Which was not in fact all that hard for him to do. He really hadn’t meant to hurt his friend, hadn’t meant to say something stupid, but now that he had it was done and there was no point in beating himself up over it, either. That simply wasn’t something that Daniel frequently did. Regrets were always futile. It meant wishing something hadn’t happened, because of knowing that it had; it was a most exhausting and far from helpful exercise, that mostly just depressed you, left you feeling cheated of that other future that was only too easy to imagine as yours. It wasn’t even as though you’d learn a lot from it. Because in the end, all the things that could have gone differently, all the things you could have done differently, hadn’t. It had gone this way and you couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t go that way again. Or maybe that was Daniel. He’d freely admit to an impulsive streak to his character, after all. Phoenix waved the waiter over, a little gesture with a lot of significance because normally he’d never be that lackadaisical, whereas now the gesture was actually eerily close to Daniel’s, and they ordered some food. “No, you’re not moving to campus? Makes sense. You can always traffic via the hearth if you’re not up for constant apparition, and you can crash at mine if you ever need to.” Obviously. Daniel had come here to offer a crash place on a permanent basis after all. “Might be nice not to live in Cambridge fulltime. It gets a little repetitive.” Well, you’re Daniel. Anything gets repetitive for you. He smiled amusedly, had another sip of his drink. “Only you could make ‘bubbly’ sound that disdainful, I think,” he grinned. “But yes, she’s fine, I think. I haven’t actually talked to her much in the past...” He paused, reflected. “Couple of weeks, but one assumes that she is bubbling, babbling and babbling along. On her studies actually she becomes legitimately interesting to listen to. I did not know what had come over me...” He smiled, had another sip. “But hey, there’s another benefit to a secret family, they can’t really marry you off - right?”
  4. [1837/1838][EN] The Golden Age

    Ah. It should probably not come as a surprise that the boy wanted to talk some more about his mother. Thurion had, after all, brought the subject up, though he realised now that he had basically assumed that he would mention the fund and that that would be it. With those administrative matters as well as the polite pleasantries taken care of, the reality of Ruth’s death again loomed over any continuation of their conversation, and that was quite the heavy topic to be discussing for a first interaction at least on a father-son basis. He wondered why Phoenix was undertaking it: was he simply too shy to change the subject of his own accord - not a wonder, with Chiron as his ‘father’ until now, but a concern certainly for the boy who would become a Foulkes-Davenport yet - or was this something he felt like sharing with Thurion? The man who after all must have known his mother? How much did he think Thurion had known his mother? Regardless, it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to go into. It didn’t seem especially suited for the consolation of a half orphaned child. And of course, Phoenix was a young man, albeit a shy and nervous one. But at the death of a mother, people were all children again. Thurion understood. Didn’t like it, you know. But he understood. He ordered a good red wine for the both of them, deciding at this moment that Phoenix wouldn’t feel like fish or at least shouldn’t feel like any fish with less colour on it than salmon, and nodded. “That does her credit.” Of course, if she had wanted to look after Phoenix a small note to a certain wealthy Canadian might’ve been a lot more productive than whatever token resistance and assistance a slight, poor servant could amount to, but once again, that was one of those things that would not be conducive to consolation to say it out loud. Or to anything, for that matter. The past was the past. There was no point to questioning it. The future was far more important. And Phoenix’s future in particular. “And it does you credit, that you held fast to the true story about her death.” Now, could they finally leave this matter behind? “This is supposed to be a very good year,” he told Phoenix about the wine, as the waiter poured it. “We do some wine trading on the side... there’s plenty of overlap... a remnant from our whisky ways. Ah, not that it matters now...” He smirked, raised a glass. “Cheers... to your mother’s memory...” He had a sip, and did actually think about Ruth. Of course. He was, despite appearances, human. “How is your school work going? Amidst all of this.... we’ll take the Midi menu, please,” he added to the staff, then turned to Phoenix again. This was the best menu. It would pair excellently with the wine and had only three courses, so it might not leave for too many awkward silences. “And you had those extremely important exams coming up?”
  5. [1837/1838][EN]No better relation than a prudent and faithful friend

    Daniel listened to Phoenix, as he had another couple of sips of his whisky, and actually legitimately felt for him. “Ah, I can’t see how you’d embarrass anyone, Phoenix. I mean that.” He did. His dear friend was pitch perfect – emphasis on pitch as in high-pitched, occasionally, but hey. And to be honest the guy was getting more and more relaxed, if only because he was too depressed to care about how he came across right now. “Well, maybe the wife wouldn’t be too happy.” Oh, Daniel. Good thing apples fall from trees, because that was in fact the exact situation. Thurion would be excessively underwhelmed and unembarrassed by having another son popping up. Whereas Daniel’s mother would be just a little bit livid. Not that that would matter to his dad, of course. What? What did it matter? She was always mad about something or another, you bought her anything from trinket to another summer house depending on the measure of your mess-up, and things picked up after a while. “Probably Canada,” he nodded. “Come along? Save me from spending time with my wife and three sisters?” Ophelia wasn’t bad. “And if you want to make any stops along the way or the way back? You have to enjoy your final holiday before uni. After that, whenever I talk to you I’ll be worried that you’re digging around in my head.” He winked, grinned. “D’you want to get some food too?”
  6. [1837/1838][EN] The Golden Age

    “Ah, there’s a new one in Paris which is supposed to be quite good.” He did not like Paris, but for the cuisine, apparently, it was the place to be. Sir. Merlin’s beard, the boy was polite. Of course, it was the kind of situation where the appropriate choice of words was other than that very much in question: after all, ‘Dad’, or even ‘Father’ was very clearly a no-go area and Thurion could understand why Phoenix would be hesitant, as of this moment, to recklessly embark upon a relationship on a first-name basis. Well, clearly he could understand, because Chiron had been Chiron, but he could also fathom that it would be difficult for a child not tragically used to parental abuse. Hell’s witches, he wasn’t sure if he himself would be all too happy about it. He didn’t much like his first name, in any case. It was a principle, not a name. You had to sound odd and magical and mighty, but ‘Thurion, can you hand over the salt,’ had never really worked in a real-life conversation. Also, it was a menace for anyone with the characteristic under-ten lisp and thus Thurion was still, to some of his oldest friends, resolutely ‘Susie’. He didn’t mind. Not only was Phoenix polite, even thanking him for his troubles, but he was capable, too, and Thurion was happy to be soon able to set course for the outside. They had to walk out apparently, as you could only Apparate outside school borders. He supposed he ought to be pleasantly surprised that that most minor of precautions the school did at least enforce. “It was a matter of course, Phoenix,” he said, and allowed Phoenix to connect that to their previous conversation. “I wasn’t going to let you end up on the streets.” He frowned in the hesitant, vanishing sunlight. “I don’t know how much you know about the arrangement with my former friends, but you were no accident that I stashed away with them. You weren’t unwanted.” He smiled. “They really wanted a child, and I helped out. Given their… recent behaviour… I considered myself well within my rights to step back in.” Whether or not Phoenix thought he had a right to, that did not of course really matter. Didn’t even occur to Thurion that that could be a factor, to be honest. “And while we’re on the topic… I’m very sorry about your mother. She seemed a sweet girl.” It had at least been a lovely twenty minutes. Sorry, Phoenix. “I have arranged for a small fund in her name. You can choose what you would like it to be for… perhaps a scholarship, nature preservation, orphanages, those tend to be the typical things.” Outside the grounds, he offered Phoenix an arm so that they might Apparate.
  7. [1837/1838][EN] The Golden Age

    Ik misbruik Daniel's account nu ook voor Thurion. Dat gaat pas fout als ik die allebei tegelijk nodig heb. Anyway: post met Thurion Foulkes-Davenport, Daniel's daddy dearest! Yes, Thurion Foulkes-Davenport had descended like a rain cloud driven by a Northeastern wind upon the Scottisch castle where both his youngest sons had been schooled for the past couple of years. When Daniel had been here, he had felt no need to come over, preferring to write to his son instead, and read his accounts of the school which, this being Daniel, had presumably been just as colourful as the oral version; he might have felt that the boy needed an at least partly British education, but that did not mean that said education needed to cost him time and effort and taking a holiday – horrors. Not a holiday per se, those were useful if only because you could tell your staff you’d be back a day later than you actually were and inspect whether or not they had their shit together when you barged in and caught them unprepared – but holidays in Britain. The dreariest of wetlands. No, he’d come over only when his son had gotten himself nearly killed because of – and by – a girl, and then when he’d married him off to the charming cousin. That had been more than enough, for the both of them. But then, Daniel was a very different case from Phoenix. And although at first he had intended just to invite Phoenix over for the summer and talk to the boy then, it had struck him that his son was now embarking on his final exams, and that that was rather a Momentous Occasion. The kind of Momentous Occasion that warranted a show of parental support. Or something. Of course, he could’ve written a postcard, but then again, perhaps a conversation was long overdue. And he must admit to a certain curiosity to see Phoenix. He had been pleasantly surprised by the boy over the summer, he had been shy, spooked but seemed clever and considerate. He had potential. Potential that Cheiron had seen fit to smash to pieces in a typical Cheiron fashion, but that under slightly less… desperate tutelage might truly be something. So he’d come over. And he’d found Phoenix’s usual haunt – the library, very appropriate – and waited for him there. ‘ “Yes, I was,” he acknowledged with a slim smile, as he looked Phoenix over, confirming the physicial similarities to both Daniel and himself that he had previously noticed. “Your Head of House, I believe that’s the structure, told me I might find you here. I apologise for not writing ahead, but I was in the neighbourhood.” Of sorts. He’d been in the north of Canada? “I was thinking that perhaps we could do a pre-exam dinner? I’ve arranged with Professor Astoria that I need merely return you by morning.” His smile turned a little more wry. “Truth be told, that was shockingly easy. I shudder to think what would have happened had my intentions been untoward. Ah well… You’ll need a coat, the weather is living up to its reputation, you can probably Summon it.” He should hope at least that his son was capable of a Summoning Charm. “How’ve you been?”
  8. [1837/1838][EN]No better relation than a prudent and faithful friend

    There was a hint of victory to Daniel’s smile, as Phoenix failed to hide his marginal amusement at his stunt. Marginal amusement, and a wee bit of surprise: given the current situation, Daniel found that effort well worth his time. It was not as though his friend could feel much more, and to be even a little bit entertained had value, even to someone not so prone to cataclysmic boredom as Daniel knew himself to be. Distance from feeling, from his own emotions, was something he could not observe with a distance from feeling in itself: it was by far the safest choice for someone with his (admittedly unique) condition, as it would allow him to stay alive and to stay healthy for a lot longer than the continuous search for meaning and excitement. But it was not a way he wanted to live. Comfortably. That couldn’t be all there was. And to Phoenix, he assumed, right now things were similar. He was distanced from his emotions and the world by dint of a trauma, and he could only be pulled back in little, but valuable ways. ‘Course, he wouldn’t know if he was right. He wasn’t the aspiring psychologist between them. And he wasn’t doing what he did for Phoenix exactly... he just found it fun, poking and making fun was always a bit of fun, people’s embarrassment always such an intriguing plaything, come to think of it wasn’t that how this friendship with Phoenix had started in the first place? And yet there was an edge of consideration to it. At this moment, Daniel at least semi-sincerely wanted to help his friend. Make him feel just a little bit better... or make him feel at all. “Oh, Azure!” He smiled, intrigued, ordered them another round. “What do you know, it’s a big country, but I do actually know him. Yeah, he guarded my dad for a spell, a couple of years ago... two years ago? Dear old dad had gotten himself a couple of death threats, I believe. Mm, he seemed nice enough. Excellent swimmer. Pretty good Auror, too, I think.” Which Daniel might or might not have found out the hard way, because he might or might not have wanted to break Felix’s concentration and perfectly polite exterior by slamming him into the lake. Good times. “Wonder what he’s doing on this side of the pond. Or did those benefactors send him here specifically for your benefit?” Their drinks were replenished, he took another large sip. “But, creepy benefactors, then. Going there over the summer? Careful you don’t end up in a gothic novel, Fifi.”
  9. [1837/1838][EN]No better relation than a prudent and faithful friend

    So, not an orphan, but clearly not the Waterfords’ son, either, otherwise Phoenix would feel no need to stress it. That and nothing else. Daniel was curious, of course, and perhaps at another time he would have indulged that curiosity, but at the present time even he felt that it was not the opportune moment to pry. To tell the truth, it was presumably merely that shy sliver of guilt and proper feelings of humanity that were holding him back, but for now they were at least holding him back. Much more than the fact that Phoenix’s family history wasn’t that intriguing and that he was not usually in for silly gossip anyway. Not because of his proper feelings of humanity there, to be honest. Mostly because he tended to get a little bored with the less than elevated squabbles of the squalid human lives. “Well, I doubt it’s causally related, Fifi, but I guess I better not risk it,” he smiled. “Anyway, here in England, probably hardly anyone reads the papers. What with all the rain the owls have to make it through, I suppose most of the country just gets a lovely impression of a smudge.” Of course not. Of course there were a gazillion impervious charms. But it was a painful conversation and Daniel felt as much inclined to avoid it as Phoenix could. If he had had to listen to the son describing the murder of his long lost mother in detail, they might’ve had to go to the Saint Mungo’s for dessert. And you just knew that that would be one of those dreary semolina pudding cups. He chuckled softly. “Honest? I’m afraid there’d be more looks… could be for another reason, though. Hang on.” He gave the starers a wave and a quick wink. Caught, embarrassed and reddened, they looked away, as he gestured to the waitress and ordered glasses of warm milk for the entire table of onlookers, then looked back at Phoenix with a smile. “Gotta provide for the audience. If they keep it up, we'll move on to chocolate pancakes... So, what’s the Auror like? The embodiment of the job? They all tend to be.”
  10. [1837/1838] She moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.

    Yep, de kamer was kaal gebleven. Die van Daniel was dat ook. Hij was nu eenmaal niet zo decoratief ingesteld. Thuis had zijn moeder het altijd gedaan. Die had de gewoonte om telkens wanneer ze zich verveelde zijn kamer opnieuw in te richten, en die van zijn zusters. Zijn zusters begonnen daar altijd een scene over, maar Daniel liet zijn moeder gewoon begaan. Wat haar maar gelukkig maakte, he. Hoe blijer zij was, hoe meer ze hem met rust liet, per slot van rekening en het was niet alsof het hem iets kon schelen hoe zijn kamer eruitzag, als ze zijn boeken er maar niet uitgooide. Goed, en de truttige witte vitrage fase was ook wel een dieptepunt geweest. Enfin... Hier was zijn kamer dus niet zoveel soeps, want Elaine deed het niet – wat maar goed was ook, zij deelden geen kamer – en Daniel zelf had er niets van gemerkt. Voor Cadwyn had hij oprecht zijn best gedaan, met een mooi bed, veel kleur, een leuke kast en niet een al te donker houten inrichting, maar vanzelfsprekend was het nog nodig om het wat op te leuken. En wel prettig ook. Uiteindelijk wilde hij natuurlijk namelijk dat ze zich hier thuis zou voelen. “Ben je ook, hoor. Mijn prinsesje. Zo lang het maar niet op een erwt is, want dan kom ik matrassen tekort.” Hij knipoogde, kuste haar, even verlangend en innig nu hij zich weer zoveel beter voelde. “Schilderijen zal ik voor je uitzoeken, blondje mijn. Maar van een koe – goh – dat is me nog eens wat. Mogelijk moeten we die zelfs laten maken.” Hij grijnsde, streelde langs haar wang, hals. “Hou je van schilderijen? We kunnen wel eens naar een galerie vanavond? Moet je wel een chique jurk aan en geduld hebben met alle kleine vingerhapjes.” Kussens en dekens moesten te regelen zijn, daarvoor hoefden ze alleen maar naar het warenhuis... Ze zouden ze natuurlijk ook gewoon kunnen bestellen. Het hing er maar helemaal vanaf. Hij trok haar het bed op, leunde over haar heen en kuste haar nogmaals. “En? Genoeg matrassen? Gaat goed met mij. En Elaine denk ik ook. Eigenlijk al een paar dagen niet gesproken.” Lekker rustig. Hij kuste haar voorhoofd, sprong weer van het bed. “Kerstcadeautjes, yep, leuk. Veel boeken. Maar ’t leukste cadeautje ben jij, natuurlijk. Hoe was jouw vakantie? Konden de Thwaites er een beetje vrede mee vinden dat ik je vanaf nu claim?”
  11. [1837/1838][EN]No better relation than a prudent and faithful friend

    Phoenix was different. Even if only a little. It was noticeable, however, if you paid close enough attention, if you were paying attention to these things normally. Which Daniel did. People were his favourite kind of entertainment, after all. He was a bit less shy, a bit less hesitant, on the one hand, and on the other a lot less fleeting. That made sense. On the one hand, he was rid of a father (figure) which had clearly been abusive and demanding, never a recipe for feeling good about yourself as a kid, and on the other, he no longer had to worry about the worst that could happen. But then again the reason he needn’t worry about that anymore was that he’d already been there. The worst had happened. And you’d say the only way was up, but of course, you’d carry the scars for the rest of your life. Or so Daniel imagined. Loosely, and only when he was trying to spur himself into being sympathetic. Because let’s be honest, Daniel Foulkes-Davenport had no real sense of the worst happening. No real sense of scars for the rest of a lifespan, either. Although very concretely he had some - thanks, Eleanor - and those did have an effect on his psyche, much though he would be unwilling to admit to it as he was still pretending nothing had happened, that it had all been a laugh and that it hadn’t changed him or the things he was capable of. Those were lies, it had the latter and it was doing the first and that was shocking and to that extent he understood. But he knew that what Phoenix was going through was of a different order of magnitude. He raised an eyebrow. “An Auror? I had no idea that was part of the victim programme, here, to set people up in townhouses.” He took a sip from his whisky and winked at Phoenix. “Or was it all due to your being your own charming self?” If it was, Daniel had grossly underestimated Phoenix’s capacity for charm. But then again, he didn’t believe so. Ah. “That’d be marvelous, except I had no idea what the papers said.” He smiled half-heartedly and felt lightheaded for a second - the standard side effect of an insincere smile in his condition, as it did block, for a moment, half your heart. “I think our desire to keep up with current events stems from a deep source of masochism within us, truth be told. And though that’s not necessarily something one must always shy away from, there certainly are more entertaining ways to indulge it, wouldn’t you say?” He sipped from his drink. “But if you want to talk about it, I will listen and at the very least you can be assured that I won’t sell the story on.” Once again, he was sincere. Ish. Once again, it was an effort. “I highly doubt you want to, though?”
  12. [1837/1838] She moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.

    Ja, Cadwyn had er een tijdje over gedaan om te beslissen. En Daniel had zich er niet mee bemoeid. Hoewel hij haar in elke zoveel brieven weer had helpen herinneren aan het feit dat ze bij hem en Elaine heus heel welkom was, vooral wanneer ze iets had geschreven over hoe ze het toch niet echt naar haar zin meer had in het grote Schotse kasteel - hij was oprecht geschrokken geweest van haar huilbui van de herfst, zelfs al was het maar echt een heel klein ladylike traantje of twee geweest, maar het was Cadwyn en huilend hoorde ze nu eenmaal gewoon niet – had hij geprobeerd er verder niet veel meer van te zeggen. Zie je, hij was geen complete slechterik. Hij was lui, hij was eigengereid, eigenwijs, soms een beetje gemeen, soms berekenend, en hij had geen oog voor anderen maar hij was er niet over het algemeen op uit om ze kwaad te doen. Daarvoor gaf hij er niet genoeg om. En bij Cadwyn had hij het heus goed met haar voor. Hij wilde dat ze gelukkig was. Wat betekende dat hij zich hier niet al te zeer in had willen mengen. Ken uzelf: hij was egoïstisch. En hij had hier een uitgesproken belang bij. Niet alleen was het gezellig als Cadwyn bij hem zou komen wonen, gezellig en vermakelijk een aangenaam (wie wilde nou niet zijn favoriete speeltje altijd bij zich hebben, liever dan in een kasteel op een kolonie verder weg) maar, relevanter, betekende het ontzettend veel voor hem. Want tegenwoordig wist hij zeker, wat hij zich eerder alleen maar enigszins nieuwsgierig had afgevraagd: als Cadwyn er was, was hij gezond. Zijn hartkwaal was dan, om de een of andere reden die Helers niet konden begrijpen maar waar Daniel met zijn Franse en romantische onderlegging wel een gokje naar durfde te wagen, sluimerend: alsof het hem nooit was overkomen. En dat betekende dat als Cadwyn bij hen thuis kwam, zijn kwaliteit van leven structureel zou verbeteren. Zijn ouders hadden gezegd dat hij het moest regelen. Hij had niet teruggeschreven, want, hallo. Maar dat wilde niet zeggen dat hij niet heel blij was nu dat ze deze beslissing had gemaakt. En sowieso was hij ontzettend blij om haar te zien. “Hey, schatje.” Hij tilde haar in zijn armen, draaide haar een rondje, gebaarde naar haar tassen zodat die mee zouden vliegen. “Ik laat je eerst je kamer zien, ja? Ik heb een poging gedaan tot inrichting, maar we moeten zo nog maar even shoppen,” met al die energie die hij had nu zij er was, maar die de afgelopen week ver te zoeken was geweest. Hij ging haar voor naar haar kamer, op de eerste verdieping, met een eigen badkamertje en een eigen klein balkonnetje waar ze kon zitten. “Voor je het vraagt, ja, je kunt van jouw balkon naar de mijne klimmen,” grinnikte hij. “Mocht dat nog eens handig uit kunnen komen. Wel... wat wil je eerst? Shoppen of drinken?”
  13. But sometimes, a Daniel will have to suffice. Saturday the 27th of January Early evening It had occurred to Daniel, recently, that he was not so up to date on the local news. It was not, all in all, a surprise, to be honest, when he started to think about it. After all, he didn’t read the papers, the wacky ones or the less idiotic variety, not unless they were put under his nose. He used to, when he was studying at Ilvermorny and he still did whenever he was at home for his dad would quiz him on it relentlessly, since to be good at business you had to be aware of business and that meant having to be aware of current events. Or something along those lines of reasoning anyway. But at present, daddy dearest was as unaware of events in England as his son was and much less willing to show an interest in that country of backward bog standard Brits - once again, yes, Daniel was very much paraphrasing here - and so he could not check to see whether Daniel’s knowledge was up to scratch, nor cared very much for his son was not supposed to stay in England indefinitely anyway. Thus, Daniel had slacked on reading about the world and his surroundings and elected to continue with his study on the fictional ones instead. What? Time was precious and so was energy. With so many limitations on one’s natural resources, who wouldn’t rather read Keats, Tennyson and Chaucer, instead of the Economy and Homeland sections of the Daily Prophet? It wasn’t as though taking in the news was important to him in any way. If there was anything in there he was supposed to take note of, he was sure it would come to him via a different route. And ordinarily it would. But not, apparently, always, and tonight in fact he was forced to confront a rather drastic oversight. Phoenix Waterford had somehow managed to witness a murder, get kicked out of his home and be disavowed by his adoptive family over the holidays and Daniel hadn’t noticed or heard about it at all. Because. Well. He’d been busy. Surfing and sleeping with people not his wife and so on. He’d actually thought he’d been doing so well, being nice to a newbie in the family and giving him fun playthings to keep him entertained. But clearly he had been missing obligations to someone else. And it wasn’t weird that no one had told him, they weren’t obviously friends, him and the shy little tag along with the straight split in his hairdo... And yet, it felt bad, and so he was here. Because when once he’d finally found out, he knew that he couldn’t stay away. Well, you know, he’d passed out, first. Because he’d felt that bad. But there was no way he was going to mention it now. “Hi, Fifi,” he said with a smile, and passed him a whisky, raised his glass to him. “Cheers. Um...” He looked at him and for once, he was one hundred percent sincere. “How are you doing? Heard about your less than merry Christmas... is there anything you need?” He sipped from his whisky, played with the menu to hide his discomfort at his next words but he could not get out of saying them. “Like, if you need a place to stay after Hogwarts finally sets you free...”
  14. [1837/1838]Uit het oog, uit het hart

    Daniel glimlachte. “Nou, is dat geen kunst, dan? Je zet het in een geheel witte kamer, je zet er een metalen bordje bij met een nietszeggende naam.... goh, “Toeval” of “Retorische Vraag” of iets dergelijks, oh, “Verval” is ook een mooie, en tadaa, je hebt kunst en het kan verkocht worden. Geloof me, mijn zeer gewaardeerde familie heeft ateliers en zalen vol van dit soort dingen.” Zijn vader vond het een waardevolle investering, aangezien het meestal minder kostte dan waarvoor het weer verkocht. Daniel verdacht hem er echter van dat hij het ook gewoon een leuke studie in de mensheid vond. Dat iets wat hij kocht meer waarde kreeg omdat hij het kocht, omdat dat het beter maakte, alsof de waardering iets zei over de kwaliteit. En verder was het natuurlijk ook een studie in de mensheid op een praktischer niveau, want de mensen die naar een avondje kunst kijken kwamen waren... goh. Vaak mooi, en gemakkelijk, en gedistingeerd doch plotsklaps snel onder de indruk. Helemaal Thurion Foulkes-Davenports type. Daniel had een aardje naar zijn vaartje, behalve dat hij geen type had. Hij knipoogde schalks, kuste Cadwyns wang en streelde door haar lieve blonde haartjes, trok haar vervolgens een beetje dichter tegen zich aan weer in zijn armen, want de huiself was immers weg. En hij kon zich ook wel enigszins voorstellen dat ze het jammer vond om over zijn hechte vriendschap met Yara te horen, al zou hij dat zelf niet zien als een vergelijking. Voor hem waren dingen, relaties, altijd anders en stonden compleet los van elkaar. Hij wist dat dat voor anderen niet vergelijkbaar was, iedereen was altijd jaloers. Maar ja, als ze met hem optrokken dan deden ze het er maar mee, en anders was het na een tijdje toch wel weer voorbij. Vervolgens was hij ook oprecht blij dat hij haar in haar armen had genomen, toen hij opeens de glinstering in haar ogen zag, trok haar dichter tegen zich aan, kuste haar neusje en haar oogjes. “Hey... niet huilen, gekkie, blondje, bloemetje van me...” Oh, jee. Dit was nieuw. Dit had hij Cadwyn nog maar één keer echt zien doen. Ze was altijd zo positief, en zo blij, en om haar nu te zien huilen was schrikken. Schrikken, en toch wel hartbrekend... Al voelde hij zich nog steeds verdomd goed. En hij hoopte, hoopte zo dat dat zijn volgende woorden niet beïnvloedde. Dacht eigenlijk oprecht dat dat wel meeviel. “Zeg, als je heel allenig bent daar op die grimmige toverschool, Thwaite, dan kom je toch gewoon hier wonen? We hebben een extra kamer, Elaine vind het vast ontzettend gezellig, die is ook vaak maar een beetje allenig hier als ik ziek ben of veel op m’n studie, en dan heeft ze iemand om mee te shoppen en al dergelijken?” Hij keek haar met een glimlachje aan. “Het is ergens ook stom om in een klas vol zoveel jongere mensen te moeten zitten. Hier kunnen we misschien als je verder wil wel gewoon thuis les voor je regelen?” Hij kuste haar mondhoek. “En dan zie ik je ook weer wat meer. Mm... mijn lief duinroosje.”
  15. [1837/1838][EN] I'm a lot like you

    Yes, Hogwarts was boring, Daniel had to agree with that wholeheartedly. But that was such a Daniel ish reason to do anything, boredom... oh, Phoenix probably had the capacity for boredom in between the nerves somewhere, but to utter it, make it explicit, he felt was out of character for the boy. Young man, really but somehow with Phoenix’s age he’d always thought he might as well take a few years off. Not so much now, though. Something was certainly going on. But he’d made an, admittedly gentle, inquiry into what it was and received little, so now he had a choice between either being less gentle and digging in, seeing if this new self-assured Phoenix could hold up to the pressure, or letting it go. And unsurprisingly, he chose to let it go. Because it would be too much effort, he was curious but not that curious, and... he didn’t mind this side of Phoenix and thought it was probably quite healthy for him to float around like this a little. “Hear hear,” he therefore said, airily. “Last year hits everyone that way, I think. After six years, you just basically outgrow it.” He’d been lucky to have been at Ilvermorny first, so that he’d still basically gotten a change of scenery, but even he had been done at Hogwarts after a while. That had also had a lot to do with his goings-on during the last year at Hogwarts, though, the sickness, the engagement. He’d been somewhat in need of a change of pace. “Uni’s much better though. Lot more space, lot more freedom.” Hogwarts wasn’t kept orderly and neat but it was mostly that you were all stuck together, which at uni you hardly had to be. He chuckled. “No, there’s quite a lot of do-gooders in the journalism branch. You know, ‘the world has to be told about’ this or that scandal or other.” They were hilarious. “They’re good sport for flirting with, too, somehow. Love an interesting story.” He glanced at Phoenix - this topic always made him more uncomfortable than anything else, it would be interesting to see if that held up. “And psychology students... ah, they’re fun when they’re not diagnosing you. I think most people give them a wide berth, to be honest.” He chuckled. “That’s what you want to study? Why?” He poured them both a second helping for good measure. “A fan of a good story, too?”
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