[OPEN] Trust Fund Babies and the Ocean

They needed this, at least once a year. Not having to work for your money was exhausting work, after all. Having to keep dad proud while remaining mommy's little boy. It was torturous work.

These were the snarky thoughts crossing Caleb Flint's mind as he flopped his way to the second floor railing of the Zamojski yacht. Caleb was typically instrumental in convincing young Z to pursue the tradition, because he understood how important it was for this brotherhood.

Okay, so it had nothing to do with a brotherhood. It had everything to do with the fact that they were all young men who needed to get wasted on a boat every opportunity they got. His satirical description of struggle was actually true for some of the men gathered, sure, but most like him had shrugged off the boredom of collecting trust fund checks and taken up a business of their own, and welcomed the chance to unwind.

Ha! This generation was so lazy that they got lazy at being lazy. Fun stuff, man.

He lifted his cocktail to his mouth, having just taken the first drink poured into one of those hollowed out coconut cups, bendy straw and umbrella and all. The sun had cooperated today and shone down on the mostly pasty crew that had assembled. They gathered around the coolers full of beers, leaned over the railing, lounged in the hot tub, sprawled out over towels and lounge chairs.

"Hm" Caleb grunted with a smirk, pleased with the sight. Yep. This was the only life worth living. He sucked on his straw.

[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] @"Baldric Wood" [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] @Other Pureblood Young Men

One thing Christian did not do anymore was party. Not since that last day with André and the girls. Not since Ace had come along and switched everything up, and his brother had started acting strange. And definitely not since Lily had arrived. No way. A bizarre and worrisome force was at work and Christian didn't appreciate it. The whole thing ate at his mind and made days like this much more complicated. But it was Flint, and they were Zabinis, and there was really no choice but to show up. He felt that the same must have been true for Mes, who stood off to the side as well, thoroughly "enjoying" himself at a distance.

Indeed, there were other places Mesut Avery would have preferred to be that day. Like at home, watching out for Katherine. But that wasn't even remotely an option, as she was no longer there. Merlin, what would he tell Lily the next time she wrote? Would she write to Kit instead, that time, and find that it returned without reaching its mark? Where the hell was she, anyway? He couldn't have an enjoyable time like this. And he surely couldn't tell his stupidly horrid fiancée. Of all the times to have this gathering, Caleb had chosen today. And he had to pretend it was fine, pretend he trusted the Ministry to do anything or the Order to stop being ridiculous, or even the Death Eaters, who he was ashamed to call his own, to come out of hiding to help their children. If they even had any over there. But no. He doubted any of that would happen. So he thought that perhaps he should get as drunk as possible before going home early and saying he was sick. Then, at least, he would be allowed to fight through the trouble on his own. And the alcohol would surely help with that in some way.

As for Apollo? Well, he had dragged his brother there because it meant Christian wouldn't be asking him questions about Lily, and wouldn't be talking about Ace Longbottom like the day started and ended with whatever plans they had at whatever shop they were headed to. Frankly, he thought it was something that neither could quite contemplate yet, and it bothered him. He didn't really know Ace, and after Lily, he wasn't jumping for joy at the concept.

Then again, Lily was back. So he didn't have a whole lot of wiggle room when it came to Christian.

In truth, Apollo was hoping that his brother would get drunk enough to let something slide and either confirm or deny his suspicions. He knew the likelihood that they had become best friends overnight was low, but perhaps he was wrong. But that did put him at risk of saying something asinine as well. Particularly about his fears or about Lily.

So he decided to hope for the best, crossing over to stand beside Flint and revel in the fact that his being underage, as far as legal adults were concerned, didn't matter in his ability to drink or spend time with the graduated men of their so-called elite bunch. Not all of them qualified, probably, as elite in any way. Yet. But perhaps they all would live up to their name. That, or they'd drown for trying too hard.

"So, what's the plan? Horror stories about adult life? I'm afraid I've got a fair few about being in school, still, but those aren't usually half as amusing. Or the good old drinking games, perhaps?"


[ooc: I've just had a thought that could super mess with Lily, Mes and the twins all at once. Maybe Kit down the line, too, if I'm thinking about it right. Will ponder.]

Caleb’s eyes were drawn curiously to Gabby Short who had arrived alone and without the usual excitement at a day full of drinking and talks of lechery. Short was a bit of a legend – the only thing he lacked was the true pureblood legacy, but he was one of the most affluent and admirable in his ability to completely defy all of the standards his parents had set for him. Gabby was a bachelor who enjoyed his money and his women with no responsibilities or consequences to slow him down.

But Gabby looked bad. Caleb was surprised he had shown up at all, to be honest. He watched as a younger guy tried to trap Gabby into conversation, but Short pushed away, cradling another drink and stumbled towards the railing. He gripped it and looked at sea, completely lost, as he sloshed down another drink.

A voice shook Caleb from his observations and he turned to see the Zabini heir standing next to him. A grin played at his lips – he had always enjoyed Apollo. Apollo seemed to cultivate an air of mystery and yet here he was at fifteen working in a shop. Sure, they had all been given responsibilities young, but most of those responsibilities were closer to luxuries. Apollo seemed intent on cultivated a strong work ethic and was always much too serious.

Caleb clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Apollo, my dear boy,” he said, imitating the Typical Pureblood Father cliché they were all so accustomed to. “No, I have no plans for what’s next. That’s what every other day is for, plans. Today is all about now. What do you want to do, right now?” This was not drunk Caleb either. Beneath the bro-exterior and the cultivation of a douche-persona, Caleb did have an inkling of brains to him. But it was best hidden under the shroud of pretentious philosophical rambling.

Still, Caleb thought it might be a good idea for Apollo to start giving consideration to his own desires. Get rid of that serious-face.

Christian didn't catch Caleb's question, but he did hear his brother's response. "In other countries, I wouldn't be allowed to drink at all. I want to get ridiculously trashed and convince these blokes to spill their secrets since we'll all forget them anyway come morning."

Christian had the distinct impression that most of the men here would not be naive enough nor get drunk enough to give everything away. But there was a chance, he supposed. Where was Pierson? That one had always been an open book, professor or otherwise. He would be an easy mark.

Perhaps, Christian mused as he tried not to smirk and only failed a little bit, his brother would get trashed and Christian could just pretend, ensuring that the younger boy beat out the one from the sneaker house. Or perhaps things would backfire for everyone and their evening would be ruined. Some part of him wanted them all to give in and do exactly as Apollo suggested.

"That, or we should wreak havoc and find a way for Avery over there to ditch the fiancée," Apollo tagged on, pulling Mesut's attention and convincing the older man to wander over to Caleb's side.

"Whatever that was about getting rid of my dead weight, I'm into it," Mes declared bluntly, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest.

Caleb knew he was not as clever as his sister, but Camila was his twin, so he was not going to deny himself at least half of his sister’s intelligence. He enjoyed the game, and he played it best with the people he could chameleon into. Hell, the chameleon effect was so strong that half of them were taking their cues from him, going out and buying the matching colors. Caleb wore a smirk like he had invented it, and he knew he had played his card just right. If he said “drink”, they would drink. That was the game, and he was the dealer.

And what was he after?

Hell, he just wanted his friends to have a good time.

Ha.

He grinned at Apollo and rocked his shoulders, glad to hear the boy talking so aggressively in favor a hedonistic experience. Must just be the pressures of running the shop or something of that nature. Whatever it was, Caleb was only too glad to help.

Christian looked intrigued as well, eyes a little bright at Apollo’s suggestion. Mesut Avery was quick to join at the mention of his horribly traditional pureblood trophy and Caleb’s grin only stretched wider. He whistled and one of the little house elves that served the boat immediately appeared with a strong round of drinks was offered, shots accompanied. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, you’re thinking too small,” Caleb said, handing about the shots firstly, then the drinks. He smiled and raised his glass, letting out a shrug. “Why not both?”

Alexander had so far spent most of the time stretched across a sun lounger, dark sunglasses covering his eyes and a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers, ash lightly falling into a tray on the deck. Usually Alexander would be busy networking on pure blood socials, exerting his presence and making everyone aware that he was just as pure blood as the rest. During his late teens he'd charm the adults, impress them with his Ministerial ambitious and political talk - always playing to their beliefs of course. Nowadays he was a tired young man, overworked and realising that there was more to politics that cunning games. Hard work was necessary and on his days off Alexander liked to do simply nothing. Of course, this wasn't always possible being married to Isadora, he was expected to pay his fair share in their relationship and that in itself occasionally felt like a duty. This mean't that today truly was a day off, a day to do absolutely nothing but bake in the sunshine in nothing but his swimshorts.

Taking a final drag of his cigarette the pure blood dropped the cigarette butt into the ash tray, swung his legs around and raised himself from the sun lounger. Beneath the lounger were two empty glasses: It was time for a top up.

Taking a shot and a cocktail from Caleb Alexander smirked at Apollo.

'Zabini, you underestimate how easily I'll spill my secrets. Unless you've spiked this shot-' He threw the shot back into his mouth. '-With veritaserum then you're going to need a lot more than alcohol to find out what skeletons are in my closet.'

His mind flickered from the werewolf Isadora had murdered, whose body he'd disposed of, to his younger sister Anastasia. The girl wasn't a Nott, what she was Alexander didn't quite know all he knew was that he believed his Mother when she told him his half sister was most definitely a pure blood, which mean't that as far as Alexander was concerned he and someone else on the yacht could be tied a lot closer than they thought.

"Way to play along... -- Nott."

Apollo smirked into his drink after Mesut's muttered comment, knocking back the shot that Caleb had handed him. While the boys all had grown up together in some ways, it was clear where the lines were drawn. Caleb and Mes were of a similar enough age to mean that they were expected to be friends. But Alexander seemed more similar to the former, and despite Apollo's declarations that he wanted to drink himself under the table, neither of the younger boys truly expected to get to that point. Even if they didn't say as much aloud, the similarity was there.

Christian peered down at his drinks, one in each hand, wondering how they were supposed to make a whole night of this. It was only the second time that they had been invited, as they were only just recently sixteen, and fifteen the year before. Their father was pleased, thinking it meant connections and reinforcement of the ideals he wanted to push upon them - particularly upon Apollo. Christian was the spare, really, and if that means his father was less obsessed with how he behaved, Christian wasn't about to complain.

Either way, he took the shot as well, admittedly pretty curious about how they were going to manage to get rid of Celia. Christian got the distinct impression that Winston Avery had selected the girl in question himself, as Mesut hardly seemed the type to want to marry so early.

"I'm sure the veritaserum can be arranged at a later date," Apollo told Alexander quite seriously. "But for now, let's focus on rescuing our mate, yeah? Have you met that bird? My god."

Christian rolled his eyes, knowing that Apollo was putting on a front. Avery looked unamused, but clearly couldn't disagree. "It isn't that simple," he pointed out to the young ones. "Unless something impressively scandalous happens, I'm stuck with her. She isn't foolish enough to get caught out with anyone."

"Ah," Apollo said with a slow tilt of his head, "but if we knew when it was going to happen?"

Things were finally getting started. Caleb was so often bored by the world. He had no need to exert effort to say alive and comfortable, so there was no fun there. As an Auror, his job was mostly paperwork, and it wasn't like the Death Eaters had utilized his position in the Ministry, which would have at least given him something of a challenge. His relationships were rather cut and dry, emphasis on the dry, leaving only his investments to titillate him. The idea that one wrong move could cost him a substantial amount of money kept his pulse up, otherwise he might have gone comatose long ago.

But after years and years of this outing being an excuse to pass out drunk in the yacht's jacuzzi, he finally seemed to have stirred some sort of fire among a select few of his peers. He peered curiously over his aviators at the Zabini twins. They were the newest influences, after all. Was it the younger blood they needed to make some properly irresponsible decisions?

Alexander Nott swung in with that traditional all-holds-barred attitude of the purebloods and Caleb smirked a little, calling for another shot. "Here, Nott, you need this. We're not digging for skeletons, we're looking for shit we can tease you about 'til the end of time." He handed Nott another shot and drank his own for good measure, before beginning to nurse the cocktail.

But they were getting somewhere with Avery, who had also suffered from a bout of serious over the past few years. Caleb found intrigue in the idea of rescuing Mesut from this tyrannical fiancee, of upending a tradition that he both understood and reviled, of taking on a challenge for the sheer thrill of it. To screw things up, just because he could.

"And if we had a devilishly handsome volunteer looking to cause some trouble?" he said, one eyebrow arching over his glasses as he raised his drink to his lips.

Alexander gazed at Apollo, resisting the urge to smirk at the teenagers suggestion that veritaserum could be arranged. Evidently the Slytherin needed to lighten up and not take life so literally. Not that Alexander could blame him, he'd once been in that position aiming to impress and fit into the pure blood society, although for Alexander it came with a charismatic wit as opposed to a dead pan expression.

Apollo did have a point though, Alexander hadn't met the bride-to-be and the situation perhaps was a little more serious than he could envision. On the other hand today was Alexander's day off, a day without worries and he wasn't about to get over consumed by an arranged marriage. All pure bloods had them, Alexander himself had had one, that was the way the world worked.

Accepting the shot from Caleb Alexander once again threw it back, this time hissing slightly and stretching out his lips. That second one really stung.

'I personally don't see the issue, Avery.' Alexander began, taking a sip on his cocktail. 'You've been selected a pure blood, naturally, and now you marry her and have a bunch of little pure Averys. Married life isn't that difficult...'

Although his sentence trailed off with the roll of his eyes as he turned his head jokingly before taking another sip of his cocktail. In all honesty it was the truth, despite how Alexander pretended to fool about his marriage to Isadora, the pair actually got on fairly well and had made the best out of an inescapable situation.

Christian wanted to roll his eyes at Alexander's comments, but he did realize that it would probably be true for the pair of them, too, someday. It made him squint a little, though, to think that he would be married to someone probably related to someone in his family already. That was a bit creepy, he felt, but it wasn't exactly up to him, was it?

He didn't want to think about who he would pick if he had the choice. Particularly if he had to do it soon. Nope, that wasn't a question worth pondering.

Mesut, on the other hand, was looking down at his drink in a particularly contemplative manner. When Christian's gaze swung towards him to see how he took in Nott's dry comments, he was even more confused.

When the older man finally looked up, his words make Apollo choke on his drink.

"She isn't a pureblood."

"What?" Christian.

"She's 7/8ths. Which basically means it's close enough, and her family is all about saving face and gaining a better reputation than they arguably deserve." He shrugged in a particularly resigned way. "Besides, you don't think that whoever we send after her will get roped into being her unfortunate match if we aren't careful? Unless something happens that is so shameful that she can't say who did it, that's an absolute no-go. I'm not letting one of you idiots get trapped instead."

"Who said it had to be one of us? What if we got some non-pureblood. A Muggleborn at that, to do it?" Apollo suggested.

"You know a guy?" Christian asked, baffled by his own question and curiosity. He did feel like helping, though, so he could at least be on his sort-of-friend's side, right?

"I know a guy," Apollo nodded.