( closed )

[lissomely]

Who: Louis Weasley & Lucius Malfoy
What: First.. meetings..
Where: A teahouse in Diagon.
When: 5 September, 1500.
Warnings: Potential grossness.

[ it's like he said, really-- louis isn't difficult to spot when he comes strolling up to the front of the teahouse. he's beautiful in a way that's clearly a little unnatural, and he deals with the considerable attention he receives from those around him by ignoring it. for anyone who knows much about veela, well, it's probably clearly a veela's supernatural draw.

he's smoking as he peers at the menu posted outside the building, long fingers ashing the cigarette with a gesture full of casual elegance, as if he doesn't even have to think about it. maybe it's just part of his nature, or maybe he learned a long time ago how to make his beauty a weapon.

either way, he's silent as he turns to lean against the wall to finish his cigarette and wait for 'armand'. ]

Comments

[malificence]

[ It's true; the boy isn't hard to spot as Lucius steps up to the teahouse. Fairer than Lucius is - and that's indeed a rare thing - and with an air about him that has almost every eye in the place going to him, then away, then back again. Veela, he thinks; he's spent enough time on the Continent to recognize it.

He's left his Ministry robes in his office, replacing them with his everyday robes, robes that are certainly more elegant and expensive looking than the average. There's a smile on his lips as he pauses next to the menu and slants a look over at the silvery haired boy next to him.]

Waiting for an Armand, darling?

[lissomely]

[ he spots the other blond nearly immediately, if only because he does stand out, and because he resembles-- well, he resembles draco and scorpius malfoy. a family member, then? he wishes now he'd paid more attention to that sort of thing, but it's not as if scorpius himself had spoken much about his family, and with he and albus joined at the hip, louis hadn't wanted to impose.

whoever he is, he very much doubts his name is armand, anyway.

his lips curl around his cigarette, sly and a bit foxlike in his pretty features. ] I am, in fact. [ he gently exaggerates his already-noticeable french accent to something closer to his mother's family, then offers out a long-fingered hand. ] You may call me Chante, should you like. [ it's not even a lie; his english family simply never really uses his middle name.

a beat, then pale lashes dip down over his eyes, leaving them half-lidded. ] Or Minou later, perhaps.

[malificence]

[ His name could be Armand. It was on the short list, when he was born, along with Nicholas and Abraxas, after his own father. Malfoy ancestors who'd distinguished themselves and brought their family to the heights they enjoyed now. Lucius, he's been given to understand, had been his mother's choice.

At any rate, this Chante - and he has his own doubts about that name - is correct in one thing. He is a Malfoy, supposedly the father of one and grandfather of the other, though he mostly resembles his potential future self in the gray of his eyes. ]

Chante. It's even more charming to meet you in person.

[His smile warms, something many people might consider an impossibility. But Lucius' charm doesn't have to be the chilly upper crust kind that appeals to the girls of his class. It's just easy to lean on that. His fingers stroke over Chante's hand and he lingers several moments more than propriety permits before he lets go.]

I hope you're not having much difficulty settling into this time. It must be different than the future.

[lissomely]

It's very different, [ he agrees, fingers curling faintly to stroke the older man's palm as he withdraws it. ] I'm quite adaptable, though, and I'm.. adjusting. Shall we?

[ he puts out his cigarette, opening the door for them both to step inside. he's quiet as they're seated, smiling charmingly at the hostess, ignoring the glances of the other patrons with the ease of long practice.

once they're left alone, he folds his hands neatly across the top of the table, long, well-manicured fingers lacing together. ] I don't spend much time in this country. [ again, not a lie. he works, goes to school, and lives in france now. the easiest fictions, after all, are the ones based in truth, and louis has a different face for everyone. ] To know that I am trapped not just in this time, but in a foreign country is.. troubling.

[malificence]

I imagine adaptability is an advantage in nearly every time period, and most countries. [ He's content to let Chante take the lead in this; no doubt that would surprise many who know him now - certainly those who knew the version of him in the future. And perhaps in part it's because he's grown accustomed to taking a backseat role in the last few years.

But equally, it's likely because he's curious how the boy is going to play this meeting. ]

It must be extremely disorienting. It's my hope that we'll be able to make you - and the others, of course - feel as comfortable as you can. Of course, we can't replicate Paris. It's been a few years since I've been to that part of the Continent, but it is an...intoxicating city, no?

[ His time in Europe had been spent in the northern part of Norway, at Durmstrang. Some time in Germany, some time in Romania. Only a little time in France, really, because his goals when he'd traveled Europe hadn't meshed with what was commonly found among the French. ]