It would hardly be accurate to suggest your parents were childhood sweethearts, your mother was a grubby social climber (who’d spend most of her time gazing into mirrors, popping xanax, and acting as nouveau riche as she felt) and your father was a ‘crook’, with a surprisingly successful printing business.
He says your mother pricked a condom. It might be nicer to say that you were planned, at the very least you were wanted.
Matthew Felinus, was born into money. Meaning that for the vast majority of his life he’d never stepped foot in your magical cities’ subway system - never felt the strain of standing up for the vast majority of the journey, wedged uncomfortably between various other business wigs, a young lady forced to stare into the sweaty pit of his armpit.. for the most part he’d do the same monotonous chores every day from sunrise till sunset, He’d smoke a cigar, drink a malt whiskey, dividing his free time between striking your mother and playing bowling. He knew all the words to every song on the radio, his favourite animal was a polar bear.
Rich people always have stupid problems.
This is important - these small trivial facts… like anchors. Mostly you’ll briefly consider them when people hound you for excuses for your shitty behaviour. My father hit my mother. My father drank, and my mother didn’t hug me enough. My parents sucked. Nothing is anybody’s fault. They were fucked up by their own parents, who were fucked up by Adam and Eve, who were fucked up by God, who was fucked up by the Big Bang or something…
He didn’t give you the blessing of an angsty upbringing, by leaving when you’d be too young to remember him clearly, when perhaps in place of defined features you’d think of him and imagine something warm…
like sad, dopey, heroines in teen coming of age movies like the heat of the polluted sun on the back of your neck, or rubbing your leather gloves together on cold afternoons.
Instead, he stayed (supposedly did terrible things to people, but you turned up the volume of the song and the courts can’t make you testify), and everyone just got on with things.
You’re not sure what’s wrong with you.
You’re competent for the most part, your Mom always
But there’s something wrong with you, when you’re little you can’t describe it and when you’re older you just ignore it. It’s like a rage, and it starts off small — “Give it back!” you drop it.
Perhaps throw might be a better more apt verb. Either way it makes an unattractive cracking sound when it hits the floor… partly because you’re too young to control your emotions, and partly because even at such a tender age you’re well aware of the fact that you simply could
and then it grows
burst milk, smashed snow globe, scrapped knee and cut hair, tears She deserved it.
You got a swift slap across the face for the Tabitha incident.
And school is fine. Money makes you friends, even if your bold personality & family history limit the number of intimate ones - you’ve never cared about what those self righteous, lemmings think anyway.
Your friends have a similar mentality.
He doesn’t come in till the summer before 6th Year.
You lay back. The dust mites feel different against your arm, manipulated beneath cool jets of air — they catch the light above you. For a moment it’s like a halo, a bold heavenly glow that shimmers in the air above his head, and if you blink you might not catch it again.
Time often romanticises things though.
The end result is like the righteous and crushing hand of reality. A blue plus on a white stick, in the stall of a ‘subway station bathroom’ — hand clamped over your mouth and this time it’s not because of the putrid smell of public toilets.
This is when things go a little hazy, and the days start bleeding into one another. It’s your most pressing secret, and the timing is terrible because parts overlap with the new school year — but somehow, eventually.. two months, almost 3 and a half weeks later.. you’ve ‘handled’ it.
Your temper hasn’t improved, instead at times it feels as though it’s surely grown with you - it’s like a great shadow that stalks you as you cross each tender mile stone. You wake up and it’s been waiting or you, has been bleeding into your mouth, caustic and vile, rotting your teeth to points… it makes you say things - you mean them (that’s true), at times it feels like perhaps it makes you do things.
Smashed glass, bloodied lip, disfigured trollies, ugly words..
Perhaps it’s because you’re simply a terrible person, entitled, spoilt. It would be nice to go back to that big bang theory.
But for a while you manage to tame it, before MACUSA fell, and everyone left, and things changed— you managed to hold back.
Red hands touch red hair.
Everything is red. Even the air around you is red, red and loud like it’s thick with welts.
You didn’t mean to
But, Temper, temper…
It’s not good, so you forget about it.
Better doesn’t always mean better for everyone.
Even you know not to speak up —
especially after what He did to the family.
Your arms hang limply from your sides and you’re forced to smile as you watch them disappear into your father’s study, clouds of smoke follow them inside ‘poker nights’ are more openly discussed these days.
And maybe, now that some of your friends are gone.. it’s time to make new ones.
After all, half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real god’s demand blood.
summaryA member of the criminal Felinus family, her father uses their house to hold ‘poker nights’ with fellow Grindlewaldians - which recently have become one of the meeting places for more intimate members of the party. A year or so ago, her brother ‘the blood-traitor’ disgraced the family and ran off to be with a No-Maj.
A bored Manhattan socialite, who at had a secret abortion at 16 and now works part time at an internship with the New York Ghost, a position likely brought for her because of Family ties and intimidation tactics, she uses the position to help write pro-Grindlewaldian propaganda and interview other influential people in the Wizarding world.
Her temper has driven her to do bad things in the past, however it’s escalated in recent years - even more so since MACUSA’s fall… and she dissociates from it all, forgetting why she wakes up bruised, in yesterday’s clothing, or why her knuckles are cut or her feet are sore like she’s been running.
platonicMost of her friends would likely be people with similar upbringings, or other Grindlewaldians, she has an intense personality and doesn’t necessarily care about being insensitive about money which makes friends from poorer backgrounds unlikely. Due to her families beliefs and criminal background it also limits “decent” people.
But she does work with the Ghost now, so likely has to step outside of her comfort zone and interview a lot or different people and attempt to be civil.
antagonisticAs a Grindlewaldian and a member of a well known criminal family, there are likely a lot of people she wouldn’t get on with. A particular pet peeve of hers would be people who self righteously act as though their family histories are perfect.
romanticIn spite of the ‘situation’ that occurred when she was 16, she hasn’t been entirely put off by romantic relationships but she does often dismiss things as she gets bored quite easily and doesn’t necessarily respect the boundaries of relationships etc - like most people she’s grown up with.
She likes guys and girls in equal amounts (though has never publicly dated a girl); for the most part her relationships are fairly shallow - or filled with attempts to one up the other person.