Darcie Dracel-Cortes

Dracarys

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“Oh have I got something to toast over!” Darcie announced before the front door could even close behind her. “I may or may not have already toasted a few times at the Hardings!” she further announced with a sloshed-sounding snicker. Wafts of prepared holiday dinner invaded her nostrils; she knew this because only certain spices and foods were saved for the winter holiday feast. “I’m late for something aren’t I?” she attempted charmingly,  as she sidled into the dining room, finding the table set and the last of the food being hovered onto the table. “Smells marvelous, Musey,” she complimented.

 

With a wave of her hand, her chair at the head of the table slid backwards to provide the space for her to sit. Another wave and she was pulling out the other three chairs for their intimate holiday dinner. Before Morgi could take her usual seat, Darcie tutted and gestured Killian over. “My boy, you’ll be seated to my right from now on. Moribund can sit…down there…somewhere.”

 

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The house smelled delightful, no doubt of it. Lian had been slaving over dinner in the kitchen while he sort of just sat on a stool and watched her, without helping, of course. He wasn't about to cut onions and cry. Besides, she seemed to have it all well in hand. Truth be told, Killian wasn't in the best of moods. Only after he woke up on this fine Christmas Eve day did it truly hit him, and it hit him harder than he thought it would, or even could.

 

His first Christmas without his parents. One taken from him, and one who didn't want him, but they were still his parents, nonetheless.

 

That said, he was grateful to Lian, for her support during the Tournament task where he was poisoned and eliminated, and that was the only reason why he wasn't holed up in his bedroom reading a book. And so, he kept her company whilst she cooked. And when asked...

 

"I set the table," he declared to Darcie and Morgi, "with magic." And, he didn't break a single plate, thank you very much.

 

Instructed to move to sit on Darcie's right side took Killian by surprise. It was like she had known he had no idea where he was supposed to park his tush for this dinner that was settling down on the table now. "Er..." he startled forward and took the indicated seat. "Morgi can sit next to me," he offered cheerily. Well, as cheerily as one could muster with such a melancholy mood hanging over him.

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The past few Christmas dinners had been fairly routine for Morgi; wear a new sweater, get insulted by her mother, eat, indulge in the vino, and floo home to either the farmhouse or her shared dorm with Heather. This Christmas eve, however, she was too nervous to stand in the kitchen with her mum and Kill, and too scared of what or how she would say it if she weren’t sober. Instead, she stood on the back deck and flung birdseed into snow until she heard her mother finally slam through the front door.

 

“Showtime,” she muttered and stepped back into the house just as Killian was patting himself on the back for his table setting skills. “Impressive hover charm work,” she complimented as she prepared to take her seat, when she was suddenly booted to the other end of the table. Her jaw clenched and she kept it clenched to avoid cursing in front of Killian. It was only because of him that she released the tension in her jaw and offered him a small smile.

 

“I’d be delighted to sit by you.” And so she sat, her engagement ring digging into her thigh to remind her of why she had shown up in the first place...to finally say goodbye to these bloody dinners.

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“Mother’s  Bloody Mercy!” – Lian called out as one of the sauce pans began to bubble a little too much for her liking. She had made fresh cranberry sauce, one of her staple favorites from a recipe she’d found in her mother in law’s belongings ages ago. It’d went along with her turkey, currently carving itself with the charm knives Lian had ordered from WHSC [Wizarding Homeshopping Channel] like any housewife is to do. Well, in this case, mainly stay at home author suffering through a massive writer’s block. – “Darcie, can you please get the Wine, we’re trying that ’99 Vintage from Murmoir to pair it with the meal.”

 

Her wand waved and the various trays with food floated towards the table and just for Killian, Lian casually did a display of colored sparks. It wasn’t something she oft did, but it was often reserved for times like this. She sashayed her way into the dining room where the tension could be cut with a knife. – “Now, you two best not start a fight like you did for my fiftieth birthday party… or I swear on Merlin’s wrinkled arse, one of you will sleep on the couch for a week and the other…well, you won’t get desert.” – A hint that Lian had indeed, made Black Forest Cake for dessert.


Edited by Lian Dracel-Cortes

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“That wasn’t a fight, Musey,” Darcie rebutted because she could as she methodically waved her right hand and snapped her fingers on cue to pour three glasses of wine, serving less of it to Morgi and serving the most to herself. “Just a minor kerfuffle. No one had to Mungos, therefore, it wasn’t a fight.” Her sinister gaze landed on her only child. “Though…” she drawled as she swirled her wine. “Could it ever be a fight if there is no chance one of the fighters could win?” she attempted to bate Morgi into a domestic despite dinner barely having started.

At the clang of the knives completing their carving and everyone seated, Darcie held up her glass.

“Let’s toast, Dracels! To another year of success,” she inclined her head to Musey, who was between novels, but had been a marvelous partner in their vineyard, “to another year of reviving the Dracel name,” she cast a prideful smile to Killian at her right. “And to the reclaiming of the ancestral manor of Dracel!’

Boom.

“After some major renovating of course, but once it’s done, they’ll be a wing for all of us.”

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