(1939-01-06) Unusual Conversations
Details for Unusual Conversations
Summary: Marcus invades Lea's quiet space on the train and a very…unusual conversation ensues.
Date: 1939-01-06
Location: Hogwarts Express
Related: Holiday Horror, Support Your Own

As usual and in the wake of the speech that she'd given to the papers far too early in the morning, Lea Rashley has attempted, despite the occasional soul poking in to check on her or see about stealing a seat, to keep a cabin to herself, for the moment. There's a neat tray of tea sitting to her right, while the newspaper is drifting there before her, directed by the tip of her wand, to turn. For all that the young woman had been cursed and with an Unforgivable no less, Lea certainly doesn't appear worse for wear. Unless, unless one counts the occasional twitch that runs through her fingers; or the way her eyes fall closed and she looks, for all the world as if someone's run their nail down her spine.

Marcus Aristedes Goyle isn't exactly known for his kind heart and understanding nature. He's not exactly known for asking permission either. So as the door to the cabin slides open, he walks in, flashing a smirk at Lea and plopping down right across from her. This after closing the door.
"Pesky people. It's hard to find some peace and quiet in these train rides, don't you think?" He leans back, eyes the newspaper, then Lea, a fellow Magijugend. The smirk becomes a bit of a smile. "That was a good speech. No, a great speech, Rashley. Glad you're alright."

There's a very sharp rise of a very sculpted brow, when Goyle invades her cabin and no warmth of welcome in the young woman's eyes either, when she sizes him up. The cut of his attire, the square of his shoulders, his worth, surely, in a gesture that sweeps with assessment from head to toe. He most certainly was not invited inside. At all.
"As am I, thank you Goyle. If you believe that, then you will join me in supporting a boycott for the establishments in Hogsmeade as well that cater to mudbloods or are run by them." Since he was there, after all, she may as well make use of him.

"Already did. Sort of have been doing it for some time, I suppose," Marcus easily replies to Lea, amused. He seems completely not bothered by her lack of warmth. In fact, he looks around, tapping his lips.
And for all his 'casual' demeanor, for all his non-chalant attitude, there is a certain dignity to how he sits, how he moves. "So, you gave a speech. And you're boycotting those establishments. What is, your next move?" He asks, curious, still looking for that snack.

"Well of course you have, as have most of us. However, the idea is to let everyone know that it is being done, so that they it carries more weight. Sometimes all it takes for people is the idea of a thing, the knowledge that it is being done to make their minds focus on it and from there, expand due to their own paranoia and if what I saw was any indication there is a great deal of it."
Her hand twitched, a slight thing, the gloved digits biting in against the center of her left palm but lucky enough not to leave a mark. "I would like to see the Magijugend support it as well. A unified front between students and adults alike as we spend just as freely and often as they do. And…I spoke with Enceladus Malfoy last night, about what would be required to turn enough minds on the Board to have the school, for all that it intakes, ensure that it offers no quarter or coin to such establishments as well."
There are scones on her tea tray, they look fresh too and warm. But, does he dare breech her side of the cabin?

"Oh, I plan to let everyone I run into know, don't worry about that," Marcus offers, with a little wave of his hand. He grins then. "Ideas are in fact a very powerful idea, and nurtured ideas, even more so." Eyes regard her hand with curiosity as it twitches, and he grows a little serious. When Lea speaks again, his attention returns to her and her words.
"I can't see most of the Magijugend having issues with supporting this, in particular after… what happened," he notes. He nods to the rest of it, and hey look at that, he does dare.
Without missing a beat, he gets up from his seat and moves to sit right next to Lea, reaching for one of the scones and taking a bite. "Those are all good moves. Unfortunately, I suspect the blind in Hogwarts will remain, forever blind. A shame."

If Lea noticed Marcus looking at her hand, there is no sign of it upon her face. No sign at all in fact that she seems aware of twitching to begin with. Instead, she smooths absently at her gown. "That is what I am hoping, though I suppose it will depend on whether or not the Overseers view my actions as presumptuous. I should hope not but it does not impact the fact that I believe what I said and more, of what I did not. Like rabbits the curs will continue to multiply until everyone stops dancing around things for the sake of politeness until the problem is one that is out of control."
It's the look in her eyes, a glimmer of passion for a cause that she never seems to hold with people. Though it quiets some, when he turns up on her side of the bench. "And yes, sheep will always be sheep." A pause. "You are presumptuous."

"Thank you. It's very kind of you to notice," Marcus replies, with an amused grin on his face at those last words of hers. He leans back, popping a piece of scone into his mouth, after breaking it off and considers. "Presumptuous, daring. It's all in that same general area. And more of us should speak their mind. Merlin's pants, in general, people should be more willing to say what they actually think." He shrugs, turns to Lea and thinks for a moment.
"You're smart, and pretty. It would do good to your house, if they had more people like you," he notes. Looking forward and a bit thoughtful, he shakes his head. "It's a shame, what happened. But at least, it brings to light the true nature of said… rabbits. They're more like parasites, really. Rabbits are kind of cute at least." A pause, and he turns to Lea again. "In any case. You have my full support. And I'll share the good word too. And well, if I can help with anything, just let me know."

"I agree, however, more do not." Lea does, though. It's part of her blessing and her curse. The girl is known for being remarkably plainspoken and further, less than concerned about what was said and to whom. Perhaps a measure of that came from the confidence she held as a dueller and her skill there, because she was skilled. Even if she seemed to favor spells that alternated between mind muddling and outright violent.
"I tried to explain it to Alphard once. One way to push that fear, to control it. We are born to magic, we breath it, it is in the very foods we consume and the drinks that we share and from us comes magic and so into our children. It makes a beautiful circle, but…what happens to that pool when suddenly there are countless others sharing the same? When was the last time you heard of a new spell being discovered, new magic done? I believe it is dy—," the pause came with the flutter of her lashes in against her cheeks, a moment, only one when the song got too loud, the memory too strong.
"Dying. Diluting. We weaken ourselves."

Marcus is a smartass. There is no other way to describe him. And like Lea, he isn't exactly great when it comes at censoring himself. He's also not very good at paying attention to what he would consider lofty speeches, regardless of how agreeable he might be.
Yet, this time around, he actually does just that. He listens. He listens and silently studies Lea. When she's done speaking, there is that amused smirk on his face. "You're not as cold as you like others to think," he finds himself saying, and popping another bite of that scone into his mouth.
"Those were very true words you spoke there, Rashley," he then adds, his tone almost serious. "We weaken ourselves. I like that." There's a deep breath, one that shows that regardless of his somewhat superficial demeanor and exterior, this is a subject he has given a lot of thought to. "I care little for their way of life. And I would care little about them, if it not for the fact that they threaten our way of life. Everything they do, muggle, mudblood, they fail to consider how it affects everything else. Magic is too precious, our way of life too important." He grins at this and almost immediately stretches, letting that seemingly lack of caring about the world bubble up to the surface again.
"I think I'm going to hang out in this cabin for a while," he announces, looking around the place as if to measure it up.

"You assume that chill is for a lack of passion? I an every bit as cold as they think I am, Goyle. You are simply confusing passion for a cause for desire. It is the flesh that holds little interest for me." Evenly explained, without much cause for concern. The kind of mild correction one might offer a child who was simply mistaken, so patient is she.
"However, I am pleased to see that you see the wisdom in the sentiment." It was her intention all along. "In fact, I would begin to wonder that the ratio of squibs in Pure-Blood families has not increased in time with the rise to the number of mudbloods born abusing what is instead ours by right." A pause, there one that's almost thoughtful as the girl cants her head to the side to look at him.
"Why are you in my cabin?"

"I don't assume, Rashley. Assuming is a dangerous game to play, all in all," Marcus replies, with a shrug. "Nor am I confused really," hazel eyes regard her, and they narrow as they do so. "So the flesh holds little interest for you, huh? I don't buy it, but, whatever you want to tell yourself," he says and leans back, finishing his scone.
He nods thoughtfully at her statement regarding squibs and her last question causes him to chuckle. "Wouldn't you like to know," he shrugs. "Maybe I was bored. Maybe I was hungry," he looks at the scones. "Or maybe I thought the so called Ice Queeen, could use a friendly face, letting her know something she already knows. That she's doing the right thing." He stops looking at her, and looks forward instead and when he speaks next, he is quite serious.
"You're going to be dealing with a lot evil looks back at school, Rashley. In particular in that House of yours. Take my look of appreciation and admiration for what it is, and let yourself enjoy it." He side-glances, grinning at her. "You can even remain all cold while at it too."

"I do not expect you to," Lea replied, carefully folding the paper and laying it off to the side. "You are male. It is common knowledge precisely where the bulk of your genders thought comes from." A little shrug followed it and while he had settled himself between her and her tea tray, her wand came out, very carefully directing the entire thing before her; held there, while she poured herself a fresh cup and then, gently guided back to where it had rested before. She was not the sort to reach over. That's what magic was for.
"You are correct and wrong, in the same turn. Those of my House have already lost much of their faith in the mudbloods and foolish sided halfbloods. That was done with we lost over two hundred points in a single night because that is what ignorant thinking gets you. I have not bothered to keep my opinions to myself for years, Goyle, those who cast evil looks in my direction will be the same who have always done so. It matters little to me. Among our peers," and there, the young woman actually smiled and it was cold, it glittered - the heart of the ice. It was cruel. "There are few who can equal me. Let them try."

"Now, who is assuming?" Marcus asks her, arching a brow. "Although there is some truth to it, I suppose," he puts both his hands behind his head. He watches her pour the tea, and can't help but grin a little at the use of magic.
"House points are house points. Give it some time. The mudblood white knights will rise again, I guarantee it. Not only in your House. In every House, perhaps less so in Slytherin," he shrugs, but doesn't give his own house that much credit.
He chuckles with that perpetual amusement that surrounds him like a cloak. "Still, take the kind words. They aren't usually offered, or received, really, by people like us." He shrugs again, letting Lea do as she will with what he says. "Confident. I like it."

He was almost annoying. Almost. But not enough for her to say anything too unkind without provocation. Perhaps it is simply that he is so…happy. The care free attitude that rankles her so. Or maybe it's because he seems passionate. Weasley seemed driven. Carrow had certainly been motivated. And Lea? Lea kept wondering why she hadn't cried. Why the blood hadn't terrified her. Why there'd been a near acceptance of her death for the smoke and the flames. Why it'd been…okay.
It only fit though, in a strange way. The same way the rest seemed beyond her much of the time but it did linger in the back of her mind, the occasionally nagging question. That desire to know just what was wrong with her. Something was. Where was the easy amusement? The laughter? Instead she sipped her tea and offered a, "Then thank you, Goyle, for the kind words." Lea just didn't know what to do with them. And confident? "Educated." Apparently to her mind there was a difference.

"Both," Marcus decides. "And you enjoy thinking. Good, just don't think yourself into walls, it can be painful," he indicates with a dry tone. Pursing his lips he adds. "This is the part, where any other guy would pass you a lame line about wanting to know your thoughts. I'm not that kind of guy. Well, I can be. But I'm trying not to be, I guess," he scratches the back of his head as he says this.
"So, I'm just going to ask, what exactly are you getting lost in thought about. If you answer, great, if not, also great." He side-glances at her.

That had been a joke, she was sure, for all that Lea didn't reply. He'd chosen to invade her space. To remain. To talk. That didn't mean that she always had to give him a response, did it? "Why would wanting to know my thoughts be considered lame?" Those dark eyes regard him, even as the inquiry's made over the rim of her teacup.
It lowered aftwards, settling in against the top of her thigh; her legs having been neatly crossed at her ankles, tucked off to the side. But at least she answered him. It didn't help the conversation any, but she answered. "It is none of your business." Gosh it's no wonder people are falling over themselves to be her friend. Not.

"Oh it's not the wanting to know your thoughts that is lame. I said it before. You're pretty and smart both. Most guys my age, would be fighting to know your thoughts, to crack open that ice that you surround yourself with," Marcus smirks. "It's the way they would go about it that is lame. Let's see. You have the romantics," he counts with his fingers, "the heroes. The jerks, although arguably, I fall in that category," a pause and he looks at her. "How am I doing so far? They have something in common, they want you. And they think that they'll get you, through," he pauses again, to see if she'll provide the answer. "Lame lines about your thoughts, and all sorts of other things." He shrugs.
"Anyhow. You're right, it isn't my business. That doesn't quite answer my question. But, I think I'm going to take it as… you don't want to tell me. Which is totally alright," he notes and looks at the tea, ready to pour himself a cup. And of course, there is another scone. And just like that, he lets the subject go. No promises that she can trust him. No attempts to try and get her to open up. He looks at the scone, with those hazel eyes of his and then at Lea. "Care for some?"

It was like he'd started preaching on Muggle Acceptance, though to be fair, Lea was more likely to understand the side that was arguing, than she was what he was saying right then. Want her? For what. "You are hardly a jerk." His behavior had been perfectly acceptable and then some. A compliment then, the soft rattle of the teacup when her fingers fluttered in a faint twitch and her mind, her mind was somewhere else entirely. "That was particularly honest of you, Goyle. And I am, flattered I think, that you may so easily say that you want me. The answer is still no, of course, but you did tell me I should thank you for the kind words." A ghost of a smile then, warm as Lea ever offered.
While the mention of the scone, had her lips pursing. "Yes. Please. Thank you." And then her eyes fell back to her cup.

"You just have to get to know me better," Marcus assures her. He opens his mouth to say something else, but stops. He frowns for just a moment an then nods. "I wasn't asking, actually," he decides to go with. But at her ghost of a smile, his smirk does soften. "But you're welcome, I think," he does add.
He does hand over a scone, and waits for her to take it, hazel eyes regarding her hands. "Is it because of the curse?" He then asks out of the blue, nodding to her hand, the one whose fingers twitched earlier. He is serious now, the superficial mask set aside for the moment.

"You stated that you fell into one of the groups and then explained what they had in common. If that was not what you meant then you should learn to be more careful with your words, else someone might use them against you." A warning? Aww, but she looked so sweet.
The scone however, she waits on a napkin before accepting, otherwise crumbs and her dress and never the two shall meet. The, "Yes," seemed almost as out of the blue as his question.

"I'd note that you then excluded me from said group," Marcus offers with dry amusement. "But I suppose you have a point. I meant to say, though, I wasn't asking to sleep with you, not that I didn't find you… attractive."
He nods in silence at her response, and there is sympathy in his expression, if only for a moment. "What did you learn, from the experience, I mean?"

"Perception. I may not perceive you as such given your behavior but you placed yourself into your example by choice," Lea replied, before looking thoughtfully at the scone in his hand again. "Are you going to pass me a napkin?" Who taught him to handle food like that?! One didn't touch what was meant to go in someone elses mouth. It was unseemly.
His question though, it draws that thoughtful reservation back to her eyes and her lips purse in consideration. "Do you mean with the curse or the conflict?"

"You could ask nicely," Marcus tells her, and reaches for the napkin, holding it, but not handing it over. He does flash something akin to a smile, but not quite. There is a challenge in those hazel eyes of his.
And just like that, he switches to the other conversation. "The curse. I think we already know the lesson, the conflict has to teach." A pause. "It is an awful thing, what those mud lovers did to you. But, you are a Ravenclaw. I'm sure, that part of you, had to be intellectually curious about the curse. And well, to be honest, so am I."

"Please hand me the napkin," Lea amended to suit him, compliance rather than simply choosing to play the game. The girl waited for the napkin, so that she could take the scone.
"Then we have learned different lessons," the girl mused in response to his statement. "But you are not the first person to ask me what it was like. I did not answer him, either. I did not have the words or perhaps, I simply chose not to share them." And it seemed as if she was not inclined to share them now, either. The silence stretching out until it became an almost tangible thing.
"It is to be possessed, one thing, burning bright and with clarity resounding with absolutely every piece of your body all at once until it consumes. Until it fills you so completely that nothing else in the world could possibly matter except that one thing." Lea paused then, taking a sip of her tea, though her eyes were closed. They opened, once the cup lowered, "Now imagine it if that one thing were pain."

Her words garner the desired reaction and Marcus does hand over the napkin, with no further teasing. And once again, Marcus listens to her. When she explains he's not the first one to ask, there is no reaction, he continues to listen. And through the silence, he remains silent, taking a bite from his scone.
When she speaks again, Marcus leans back. He makes no attempt to hide his curiosity. "Fascinating," he finds himself whispering, and then nods. And just like that, he takes another bite from his scone.

"It was," simply that and no more, before the girl finally allows herself to take a small bite from the scone; pulled away rather than bitten into. "To hear it once, like a song, is to have it stuck in your head forever." Yet she considered him, watching intently, her expression thoughtful.
"The kiss of pain interests you." Observation, not question.

"A lot of things interest me," Marcus offers regarding her observation. "But, yes," he admits, even without a question. "Pain so acute, so… pure, that even though there is nothing physically wrong with the one cursed, it can, well, leave such a mark, so to speak." There's a bit of a shrug, and another bite of the scone.
"So yes, it is quite interesting," he admits again, with no reservation. "Does it interest you?"

It's a subtle thing, the way her breathing changed, the way the scone was so neatly put down as if one piece of it were truly all she'd wanted. Her gaze upon Marcus is intense now, unwavering. "It has always been an interest to me," the words are quiet, a ghost of their former selves and she's still /watching/ him.
Thoughtful too. Quiet, until eventually, "I could help you experiment with it if you like."

Surprise is not usually something that Marcus shows. He's not one to bother hiding his emotions, but he's usually not very surprised by well, most anything. And yet, here he is, surprised. Eyes narrow, and lips form something akin to a smile.
His gaze matches hers in intensity, also unwavering. There are a few moments of silence, a subtle tilt of the head. "I'd like," is all he says.

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