Closed Mutterseelinallein

Alessio Lichester-Raven

Thestral Breeder
Messages
370
OOC First Name
Tenile
Blood Status
Pure Blood
Relationship Status
Married
Sexual Orientation
Homosexual
Wand
Curly 13 Inch Unyielding Acacia Wand with Chimera Scale Fragment
Age
2/2006
ID#92298
Alessio had known Carter for years, and whilst he kept his feelings for others very close to his chest, he was feeling the need to meddle, recently. It was an awful feeling. He rather liked watching people spiral out of control, helpless to stop them. He also didn't mind having friends drop off the face of the earth, leaving him behind to mourn them politely with a lotus fabric tissue and some well-constructed words of appreciation. Carter Kaster had lost his wife, years ago now, as Alessio understood it, and since that time, Carter had done a fine job of systematically ruining every other aspect of his life as thoroughly as his marriage. Alessio could somewhat sympathise, with his vivid imagination and knowing how he would feel if he lost his own husband, but that also meant that he felt it was time Carter sought help. The man had seemed allergic to all forms of contact for the last couple of years, despite Alessio knowing that he had received many different forms of contact by various people. Alessio, himself, had sent correspondence to Carter numerous times and received nothing. During the time they worked together on the Wizengamot, Alessio had learned a lot about his colleague, which meant that it was abundantly clear to the observant man that Carter was struggling. It didn't take a genius to decide that he was likely still living in despair over his deceased wife, and even Alessio couldn't convince himself to ignore it.
A few weeks before Keira's death, Alessio had been contacted by Carter for a commission piece. Alessio had completed it swiftly, as it was for a friend, but he had never given it to Carter since his wife's loss seemed too recent. Then, they had fallen out of regular contact. His husband, Robin, had found the portrait in his studio a few weeks ago, which gave Alessio the perfect excuse to go and meddle in Carter's affairs. He couldn't tolerate the thought of having to admit that his visit was a social one, so whilst he was sure that Robin knew better, his excuse was set and his letter arrived some time before him.
Seeing as Alessio was waiting at Carter's door for longer than he had ever waited for anything in his life, the Italian had to assume that it either was not received, or was not read. His eagle was not inept, so the fault was placed onto Carter. His door was a simple matter to open, and the seasoned wizard entered the trenches. Mister Kaster's home, to Alessio's impossibly high standards, was a disaster. He was sure that his toddler could maintain a household better than this, and Luciano had only just learned how to climb a staircase. He wasn't sure he wanted to touch anything, for fear that he would join Carter's wife in the ground from picking up something.
"This is quite a state," he muttered to himself, before calling out to announce his arrival to Carter for the fourth time since being on the property. Carter was soon revealed to be in the lounge, and whilst the man was clearly attempting to look like he was a respectable member of society, Alessio knew better. Twitching limbs, eyes dark enough to look bruised, his clothes were worn inappropriately, with mismatched buttons and unattractive crinkles. When was the last time the man had ironed his clothes? His shoes were dull and in need of shining, his hair was clearly only combed once, and the biggest tell was the fact that Carter Kaster always, without fail, greeted him at the door, and not an inch within the foyer of his home. Alessio felt dirty crossing the threshold without permission, but at least he still looked immaculate - Carter looked sloppy. A man that had no idea what to do with himself.
"I owled," Alessio informed him, his voice crisp as ever. "I expect it was lost among all of this. I have come to discuss a commission you assigned me, before," the paint charmer continued, gesturing to his satchel bag. 'Before' Keira's death, or 'before' Carter's condition, he left ambiguous. "May I sit?" It was likely a request he would regret, seeing as the sofas looked like they belonged in the house of Montgomery Pendleton, and there was no universe where that was a compliment.
 
It's not that bad.

A mantra he was sure was expressed by many a man who had undergone too many nights of drinking without enough sleep between them. Though his home was slightly worse for wear, given Carter spent the majority of his time either sleeping or at work, he couldn't have been expected to keep his house tidy. The twins no longer lived with him, Lyra had disappeared, though when he'd heard that he'd immediately drank himself to sleep knowing it had been completely his fault. He had to assume she'd had the babies by now and without anyway of knowing whether his daughter was alive or dead (he desperately hoped for the latter) he had merely spent less time doing anything else and more time drowning himself in drink. Not that he had a problem or anything. He didn't need anyone to help him. Not Maya, not Cameron, not Cyndi and certainly not the long streak of pureblood Italian currently standing in his living room. "I know," the letter still sat unopened on Carter's coffee table, the unmistakable neat cursive clearly belonging to his Italian friend, though he wasn't sure he could call the man that anymore. Carter didn't bother to dress up in his own home, so knowing the look in his eye that he was getting from the tall, stringy Italian was more than a little irritating. He nodded his head at the only available space on the sofa, leaving the older man to his own for a moment as he grabbed two crystal glasses and one of the better bottles of whisky. "Do you drink whisky?" He couldn't recall seeing the man drink before, so wasn't certain what his tastes were, but he did have a couple good bottles of wines and spirits they could break open. If this was about the commission for Kiera, he was certainly going to need something to help him get through whatever the hell it was Alessio wanted from him.​
 
Alessio's eyebrow rose as Carter's nod caused him to notice the only patch within the room that anything could sit on. In his opinion, it was barely suitable to be sat on by a dog, let alone a grown man, but he had invited himself to this nest of misery. He may as well attempt to get down on Carter's level, so to speak. He watched Carter reach for the glasses, which he hoped were washed, though he sorely doubted it. He couldn't see how someone could neglect to iron their clothes and dust their chairs, yet manage to wash their dishes. Even if he drank alcohol, which he didn't, he wasn't sure he could have accepted the drink in good conscience, knowing that there was every possibility that the last person to have washed those cups was Keira herself.

"I do not," he replied, holding his hand up to ensure that Carter didn't start pouring him a glass. Really, Carter didn't look like he needed another one, either. He was looking particularly soft and pink about the cheeks. His attentions then focused on his fake reason for being here - the portrait.
"You had wanted a portrait of Keira," he reminded him unnecessarily. It was more for legality's sake, to ensure that both parties knew of and consented to the idea of the painting in question. "I made some alterations, given the circumstances. I am hoping to show you the portrait whilst here, but first, I think it is time that the whiskey be placed in it's cupboard. Fresh portraits should not be exposed to alcoholic vapours."
 
There was something about having a disgruntled Italian in his house that set Carter really on edge. Part of it was that he knew that should it come down to the wire, Alessio pretty much had him beat. There was no doubt in his mind that as a former curse breaker, Alessio could take him easily. Whilst Carter was no slouch by any means, he certainly was not as accustomed to explodey magic or strong wards of the type Alessio would have come up against in his line of work. All Carter did was help create and research laws, which didn't require a lot of magical effort if he even bothered to try at all. He nodded when the offer of a drink was declined. "Tea perhaps?" He'd been about to offer coffee, before he remembered he who had been in conversation with. Carter personally didn't really drink either tea or coffee, especially these days. Of course he did when he had to, like when he was sitting in the foyer and drinking special coffee, the bitter bean hiding the truth inside it. He poured himself a glass of whisky and took the bottle with him as he sat on the other side of the couch, kicking off the mess that had occupied it only moments earlier. He had been about to sip his drink when Alessio started in on his reason for being there. "Christ," Carter was going to need more whisky than he currently had in the house. He immediately downed his entire glass before pouring himself another one. When Alessio started mentioning he needed to put the alcohol away, Carter frowned. "Unless you want me to cease to function entirely, you'll want to decide if what you just said is true or not, I go where this bottle goes." He said, unblinkingly. He wasn't about to be told what to do in Kiera's house - his house - he had to remind himself. After all, it wasn't like he needed Alessio her, the man was perfectly able to leave at whatever point he wanted to. "What alterations?" He was almost afraid to ask. When he'd first asked for the portrait, it was just before Kiera had gotten pregnant and he'd wanted something to celebrate their anniversary. It was so long ago now. He'd almost forgotten about it. Almost.​
 
There was nothing more distasteful than watching a man take an entire bottle of whiskey when he really should have stopped at a single glass. The occlumens ensured he didn't go scrunching his nose, though the smell of desperation disgusted him, and tried to soothe himself with the lie of why he came here - the painting. Naturally. Friendly discourse could happen after business, and if that involved attempting to put some sense into this senseless situation, then so be it. The 'plop' of items hitting the floor drew his eyes momentary - it was a sin in his house to go about touching anything with ones foot, let alone making the thing fall to the floor and not finding the perfect place for it. This was truly a house of horrors.
At least he seemed quite happy to admit the fact he had replaced his wife with a bottle, which was likely to horrify Carter in the future if he ever woke up enough to listen to himself. "I question whether you are functioning now," Alessio admitted quietly, his rich voice cutting through the rather awkward silence that followed Carter's question. The Italian could not go on to discuss the portrait after a comment such as that, after all. He had impressive self control, but everyone had their limits. "Anyway," he added, moving swiftly along back to business as if nothing had happened. "The original commission was a portrait; I have changed it to a landscape as I have added a few subjects."
It was quite the understatement, really. Alessio released the painting from its confines and conjured a frame that matched both the portrait, and the skirting of the house. At this point, the walls were the only thing looking respectable, so he wasn't going to bother matching the portrait to anything else. The portrait featured what Alessio considered to be Carter's nuclear family, which included his step children, his children, and his late wife. Carter was living in the past and sorely needed a reminder that there was a future waiting for himself and his children, so depicting anything without those children, was inappropriate, according to Alessio. "I made some estimates with the youngest two," Alessio explained. Link, Lyra and Jemma were at ages were they would look similar to the depiction for a while, but the twins were quite young and didn't quite have defining characteristics, yet. Otherwise, he prioritised ensuring that the group looked like a functioning family, with Lyra pushing Kingsley on a swing, Link zooming in and out of the frame on a broomstick, occasionally landing to help his younger sisters, Jemma and Kamryn, successfully execute cartwheels on the grass. Kiera and Carter, meanwhile, were seated in a love seat and watching.
"It is not a close up portrait like you originally wanted," Alessio admitted, feigning apologies simply to be polite. In his personal and professional opinion, this was a much better result. "However, I hope it will suffice. They are charmed to move, but not speak."
 
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There wasn’t much to like about the Italian sometimes, want as he was to muddle in Carter’s affairs. Coming in here of his own accord. Payment was due, obviously, but that didn’t mean that Carter couldn’t have owled him the money, and it wasn’t like Alessio to come and collect it with his own hand, should he even want to be in contact with galleons that had touched his bare hands. Alessio has been a source of interesting conversation for a time long ago, back when he still had a life, before Kiera’s death, the loss of his pride and his subsequent self descent. His views on the political were often well thought out and reasoned and he certainly didn’t suffer fools lightly, which wasn’t much to be said of most others that was for sure. With that though, came a rigidity he only ever associated with the pureblood, a cause for a concern in and of itself. Though how the man managed all those kids and his husband was completely beyond even Carter. He didn’t look like the type of person who worked well in times of utter chaos. Not that Carter would know that much about it if he were honest. His great defence to adversity these days was to stick his head in a bottle, it helped. He knew there had been a cutting remark in there somewhere, but Carter’s haze addled mind has not caught it. In a much more brighter instance he would have found the remark to be excessive, but it was hard to argue against a point he didn’t even realise he was showing.​

Carter hadn’t quite realised he wasn’t drunk enough to deal with this until he was staring Kiera in the face. Her bright eyes and smile looked every bit the reality of it, and he inwardly marvelled at the command of the brush his companion seemed to have. He didn’t think he’d see Kiera’s smiling face again after what had happened with Lyra. It devastated him to see it now. He didn’t bother looking at himself, he didn’t recognise the man anymore, skipping over him to see Link, every bit the young man Carter had watched him grow into for years. He didn’t have a relationship with Link anymore, he didn’t have one with Lyra and he barely had one with Jemma. He’d let her get away with too much, he’d ruined any chance of helping her when he’d had the chance. He cared deeply about them all of course, but he knew he’d lost them, it was part of what drove him to seek his own comfort at the bottom of a bottle. Then there were his twins, Kamryn and Kingsley. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them, let alone held them. Had it been the night Lyra had taken them? The time had passed both quickly and slowly that sometimes he wasn’t even sure what day it was. He hadn’t realised he’d not said anything until he dropped his whiskey bottle, shattering it on the table. “Ah, sh!t” he quickly leaned around for his wand, realising he’d misplaced it before carefully stepping around the glass. He was adept at wandless magic usually, but decided he was probably too drunk for that and didn’t immediately go there. “Do you mind, or shall I get a broom?”
 
Carter's silence was making Alessio grow increasingly uncomfortable. He knew, walking in, that this would be an emotional moment for the man, but that didn't mean he wanted to have to sit around in polite silence as Carter decided whether he was going to throw up or faint. Fortunately, he did neither, and instead dropped his bottle, the shattered pieces an apt physical representation of what was left of Carter's life. Removing his wand to clean up someone else's mess in their own home was not something he liked doing, as he was not a house elf, but seeing as the apparent solution was to grab a broom and sweep it, he felt as if he were backed into a corner. He couldn't be entirely sure of Carter's magical prowess, but considering the fact he was once a high ranking member of the ministry (he would be shocked to learn he still was), Alessio was sure that he was (once) a competent wizard. Now, apparently, he was no better at magic than Alessio's eight year old daughter, and had the reasoning skills of his twelve year old son.
"I'll do it," the Italian decided, not leaving it up for discussion as he whipped out his acacia wand. Cleaning up small, broken things was his regular routine, being such a pedantic user of fine china whilst also having young children. The bottle was sitting neatly on the closest available surface, with an additional charm to stop it from breaking again, though it remained empty. That was likely for the best, as Carter clearly did not need more alcohol. What he did need was a dose of reality and better coping mechanisms, but whilst Alessio was one to pry, he wasn't one to force.
"About the painting," Alessio started, attempting to get back to his fake reason for being there. "Do you still want it?"
 
There was something about being companionable in loneliness that Carter hated. He felt terribly alone all the time, even in a room full of people and yet when he should be feeling alone, in situations where he was alone, he felt almost as if there were too many people in the house. Alessio made two, which frankly was one too many for Carter at the moment and he found having the Italian anywhere near him was disconcerting and inescapable. He certainly couldn't fob the man off for very long and despite everything he certainly deserved to have his money, but Carter barely knew what he was doing anymore. He turned away from Alessio as he moved to clean and padded carefully over to this bar again, pulling out another bottle and not even bothering to read the label. He wasn't drunk enough today, his body needed to be liquid to function due to his excessively high tolerance for the stuff. He'd given up caring what people thought years ago, now it was just him and the bottle. He still managed to complete his work, though he'd found himself on the wrong side of Claudia a couple of times by now, he was sure his job wasn't long for this world. He couldn't bring himself to change his behaviour though. "I want it," he said, pouring the liquid into a glass and leaning against the bar to steady himself. "But... I wonder if you could duplicate it, and take me out of the second print?" He asked. He thought maybe he could keep the second print for Lyra. She might not have thought much of him, but surely she would appreciate something like this? If not Lyra, perhaps Jemma, or the twins. He didn't think Link even cared enough to think about him.​
 

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