E L S E W H E R E C H I L D
CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name: Leon Castor Delaney
Gender: Male
Age: 8
Bloodline: Muggleborn
Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): Jim and Nicole Delaney, muggles (lost in the time warp)
Residence:The West Wing Orphanage, St. Mungo's
Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?St. Mungo's (orphan)
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason? Noel Pollux Delaney, twin brother
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:Shepard Kedding, et. al
Biography: (100 words minimum.)The Delaney Home -- mid-March, 1937
Day 76
It started with a little cough. Just a little one, but it escalated and then Noel couldn’t stop, and he couldn’t breathe and Leon didn’t know what to do. It happened once before, not long after their parents had left with April, but it was only for a little while, and then Noel was tired, but okay. But this time, it was worse.
At least he was breathing again, even if it didn’t sound right. They were lying on Noel’s bed now in their bedroom upstairs, with the younger twin fearfully looking on as Leon’s own little chest, thin and undernourished like his brother’s, heaved in time with the shallow, wheezing breaths of his twin beside him. It
hurt, like little pins in his lungs and it made him want to cry.
He couldn’t, though, because he had to be strong and brave. Noel couldn’t see him cry. Papa had once told them that they were like two brothers in a story, linked in a way that was special. They had identical scars, like identical faces, because when Leon hurt, so did Noel a little. Mamai called it a bond. April called it odd. Leon, however, thought it meant he had to take extra care of his brother.
“Noel…” he whimpered, and squeezed his hand. “Please be better.”
He wished that he knew how to make soup. Mamai always gave them soup when they felt ill, and thick blankets and tea. And then he’d feel warm and safe and it wouldn’t feel so bad. But there was no soup now, no food at all, and the only blankets he’d found were the thin ones stuffed in the back of the closet downstairs. They weren’t warm -- just pretty. As it was, he’d already laid Papa’s coat over Noel’s thin body, because it was the warmest thing he could find.
Noel did gradually get better though, and sleep overtook them both in the end. Leon was restless though, for he dreamed that Noel had left him too like Mamai and Papa and April, only it was a worse kind of leaving where he knew Noel couldn't come back.
When he woke, his cheeks were streaked with tears.
St. Mungo's -- late December, 1937
Past bedtime
He told Noel to wait in their room, which wasn't abnormal. He had been forced to leave Noel behind many times to gather food and find things they needed after Mamai and Papa and April left, and they had a routine.
"Come back."
"I will. Promise."
And he always kept that promise, no matter how much time he had to take. It never lasted too long, though, for an hour felt like a week and he'd come running back as fast as he could manage, throwing his arms around his brother and hugging him very, very tight just to make sure Noel knew he wasn't lying.
They hadn't had to go searching very far for food in a few months though, not since the men had come and taken them to this place. They couldn't trust that it would last, of course (for what if the people here forgot them too?), and they'd taken to hoarding boxes of sweets and bread beneath their beds, but Leon couldn't turn up his nose at the accommodations for as long as they lasted. Noel could get sick easily, and Mamai always said eating well was good for you.
He pretended that his lip didn't still tremble when he thought of her.
Creeping around the corner, the dark haired child caught sight of a healer coming toward him, carrying a clipboard and muttering quietly at the page. He ducked into the next room, waited for the man to pass and then kept moving. The kitchens were just down the hall. He found them abandoned -- no one was cooking at this hour, and his bright blue eyes alighted on the puff pasties they'd left on the counter. He ate one and took another, then moved on. He ignored the vegetables -- they didn't taste as good and they got moldy and inedible faster than bread. Bread could be eaten even when it was stale. He knew that from experience.
Two baguettes, six chocolate biscuits, and a puff pasty later, he was scurrying back towards the West Wing, baked goods in his arms. He made it back without incident, and when the door opened, he met Noel's identical gaze. The other little boy was sitting up in bed in exactly the same position as he'd left him, and Leon thought he must have stayed like that the whole time.
"I got some!" He whispered, for loud noises brought nurses running, and this wasn't their business. "There's a pasty." He handed it over proudly, eyes shining, then deposited the rest of it in a waiting box under the bed. A split second later, he'd joined his twin under the covers and hugged him with his customary squeeze.
"Happy Christmas, Noel."
Roleplay Response:He would never admit it, not to anybody but Noel, but he wanted to fly. He didn’t know much about flying brooms, but he’d seen enough of them in the park when the nurses took them out to know that they could fly very fast and very far. Sometimes, he thought that maybe he and Noel could get one and fly away together. But he didn’t know how to find one, and he couldn’t possibly fathom how to fly one.
He didnt even know
if he could fly one.
The boys in the park made it look easy, and Leon watched them soar, eyes wide. Beside him, Noel pressed in close, and Leon slipped a hand into his twins palm. “You could do that, Noel,” he said quietly. “You could fly.”
Noel was magic, like the nurses said. He’d gotten medicine for Leon with his magic, and that’s how the men found them. But Leon had never done anything magical. He’d even tried, on the rare occasions when Noel wasn’t with him -- lifting objects with his eyes or waving a stick and hoping that a light would shoot out of it, like the sticks the nurses carried. Wands, they were called.
So engrossed was he in watching the boys play that he didn’t notice a new arrival until there was an angry-sounding exclamation and Noel began tugging rapidly on his sleeve.
"...Do you want to play?"He stared critically, and his first instinct was to flatly refuse. But he couldn’t help but catch notice of a small broom behind her, stuck in the soil and left there, abandoned. She clearly didn’t want to play with it. But maybe… she would let him have a go?
But Noel was scowling, and Noel didn’t trust her -- he didn’t even have to look at his twin’s face. He could feel it in the way Noel clung tighter, the way he shrank back, but also because…. well, he just
knew. And no broom rides were worth more than his brother’s happiness.
He set his jaw, looked as menacing as possible, and strengthened his grip on Noel’s hand. “No,” he said simply, though his voice was completely hostile. “Go away.”
OTHERHow did you find us?
Treasure map!Permission for transfer of character granted by Theodore Beauchamp.
