June 19th, 1888 — The Apothecary
Of course there was a level—a very loud level—on which the witch knew that venturing into the fog was not the most sensible of ideas. Had her husband not been entirely occupied by it, Roslyn might have allowed him to dissuade her. Unfortunately (for him or her?), he had not been present, leaving the housewife to fret about her greenhouses without any interception. The fog had brought with it an utter absence of magic, and it was magic that many of her plants (those not native to Britain) required to thrive in the foreign environment. Unwilling to give up on them, Ros knew she would have to get creative.
“Don’t touch anything,” she instructed the trainee auror dryly. The young lad had been tasked with watching the Ross house for the duration of the fog, and had felt duty-bound not to allow her to venture out unaccompanied. Likewise, Ros had felt duty-bound not to allow him to inadvertently poison himself. What a pity it would be, if a need for summer income proved to kill the promising wizard!
(What he was supposed to do without magic, Roslyn couldn’t say, and she hadn’t wanted to damage his pride by asking).
Satisfied her guardian was, himself, safe, Roslyn began methodically working her way through the shelves, looking for anything that might be of use.
— #PrettiesByMJ —