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last online Mar 28, 2024 3:05:08 GMT -7
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Aug 2, 2017 17:13:09 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Aug 2, 2017 17:13:09 GMT -7
OPEN Finally a day off. Blaise hadn’t had one of those in a while now. Daphne was still abroad, working on contract deals for a new film that was apparently her dream roll. The actual project? Some famous director’s passion project. From his understanding, passion project films could go one of two ways: turn out as a massive success and end up as a box office hit, or quickly be forgotten and end up as a stain on everyone’s records. Blaise couldn’t really give input on anything in the industry because he was a magical memory eraser. A highly acclaimed magical memory eraser at that. But Daphne enjoyed what she did, and he trusted her choices when it came to her career. She was an established name, so one bad film wouldn’t ruin the rest of her chances. Especially after the one she had just wrapped. Apparently it was highly rated already, and the public hadn’t even seen it yet. He was sure that he’d be expected to show his face during the premiere. That meant remembering what his cover story was again. No matter. When the time came for it, she would remind him. Sometimes he wondered if his acting abilities were just as good as hers. He had been keeping up the muggle charade for years now.
With the wife working and kids in school for a few more months, Blaise found himself thinking about all of this while staring at a muggle newspaper and sipping on some kind of awful frozen muggle coffee drink. It came from one of those chain coffee stores. Now, that wasn’t saying that all of their drinks were bad; their standard dark roast coffee had a sublime taste to it, something that he had yet to find a comparison to in the magical parts of London. Apparently muggles could get some things right. Most of the time they were just an annoyance to him, blabbering on about seeing a floating tea kettle or a garbage can eating a man whole. While they were technically right, they were still only limited to their imaginations, and those were utter crap as well. If only they knew what was out there, hidden from their glazed over eyes.
Taking another tentative sip of his drink, Blaise grimaced. This thing was definitely bad. On a normal work day, he would have tossed it out already and gone into work. But today he had time to kill, and sitting at a table watching muggles interact and trying to stomach one of their disgusting drinks made it seem like he was one of them. To be able to erase and replace their memories meant that he needed to understand them to a certain degree. How they could drink this frozen coffee was beyond him though.
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last online Mar 28, 2024 3:05:08 GMT -7
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Aug 15, 2017 8:24:23 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2017 8:24:23 GMT -7
Quidditch season was quickly approaching and Cyrus was beyond ready for it. The off season had been everything short of magical as Eleanor and he had found their way back to one another and began dating again like they had in school. They had even spent the holiday in Paris like they had always dreamed about doing when they were kids. Now Cyrus found he was ready to release all of this extra energy he had from his amazing winter out on the field. Luckily for him, the team had a meeting today. Usually "meetings" were exactly that, but somehow they always found themselves out on the practice pitch doing a scrimmage.
As per usual, Cyrus was enjoying the morning walk in the new April air down the London streets. For a while now, he would walk every morning to the Muggle Starbucks before rounding the corner and Apparating to practice. He loved walking down the London streets on his way to coffee for many reasons: no one recognized him for one (Cyrus loved Quidditch fans but it was nice to have alone time,) and the walk to Starbucks always reminded him of Eleanor as she had been the one to introduce him to Starbucks when he would spend time with she and her family in London during the summer in school. By now, though, Cyrus was a regular and he had experimented around enough with the different drinks they offered to know exactly what he liked.
The Keeper walked into the muggle establishment and stepped up to the counter to order his iced latte then waited at the end of the bar for his drink. Cyrus folded his arms across his chest comfortably as he waited, his eyes glossing over the people in the café. He stopped, however, on a gentleman sipping on what looked like a Frappucino and making a disgruntled sort of face. Cyrus didn't mean to stare, but he was certain he recognized the man. Immediately he began to rack his brain. Quidditch? No. Was he a scout? No. Then as usual, his brain just automatically went to Eleanor and then it hit him. Cyrus had seen this man at the Ministry in passing one afternoon when he was visiting Eleanor! Suddenly Cyrus found himself excited; he never saw other wizards at this place!
As Cyrus still waited for his drink, he nonchalantly moved closer to the table the man was sitting and sipping his drink at until he was close enough to make conversation casually. "S'not that great, is it?" He asked the gentleman, knowing pretty well himself that the Frappucinos the muggles sold here were far too sweet for his own tastes.
blaise leo zabini
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last online Mar 28, 2024 3:05:08 GMT -7
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Aug 19, 2017 17:05:23 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Aug 19, 2017 17:05:23 GMT -7
@cyrus The only thing that was more annoying than his drink was the dolt standing in line to order that was staring at him. Blaise’s sunglasses covered the glare that he was returning at the man. He didn’t recognize him at all, so why the intense gaze? If he had been a criminal or someone that he had apprehended at some point in time, the face would have stuck out like a sore thumb. While he tried to obliviate his name and face out of criminal’s minds, sometimes there was still recognition. Part of the loophole that came with the spell if it was done properly. Muggles didn’t really stand a chance against it because they typically replaced or suggested new memories instead. The only time real memory loss and damage was done was if the spell was screwed up. He had seen the after effects of that plenty of times. Apparently it was fun for the bad guys to try and use the Obliviator’s number one weapon back at them. It never worked.
Blaise deduced that this guy wasn’t a criminal. But he knew something. The second thought that came to mind was that he was possibly a super-fan of Daphne’s. While that was even rarer than encountering a criminal, it did happen on occasion while he was on his own. It wasn’t like he was completely void from tabloids that she was in. Blaise didn’t break his glare from the man the entire time he was at the counter, either. He wanted to know what this man was up to, besides buying a coffee. Being stared at in that manner always put him on edge. Normal people didn’t do that.
And then the guy was walking towards him. Blaise pretended not to pay attention until he was right next to him, trying to figure out what the odds were that this could turn ugly. It wasn’t often that he was approached by random people in public. “Could be better,” he answered, tilting the drink in his hands before looking up at the man. “So what makes me so interesting?” Better to jump to the chase than beating around the bush all day.
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