26th August, 1889 — Diagon Alley

Marina would have preferred not to spend the best part of her afternoon - though indeed they had arrived in the morning - watching Miss Vane have a dress fitting (and then another dress, and then another), but then Marina could not recall the last time anyone had heeded her preferences. Lunch had been sacrificed, and Lytton's complimentary nibbles were not enough to make up for the wasted hours.

To think she had used to come to the House of Lytton for herself, frittering away funds on one frock in peach, another in coral. Salmon, really. She had trussed herself up like a salmon on a hook.

(She could certainly eat a salmon now. Maybe two.)

In any case, Marina rather thought she had done well, despite the protestations of her stomach, to refrain from picking up one of the pins and poking it right through Tryphena's beady eyes. The young lady had been testing her patience from the outset (not unusual), but Marina was exceedingly miffed when the girl swanned out of there without so much as a thank-you to the weary assistant. No, but of course Marina would be left to attend to human decency, and to the bill; by the time she stepped out onto the street after her, her charge was nowhere to be seen.

Marina scowled. She trotted off, fast as she could. Wily little minx. She had probably arranged to meet a friend - or a passing suitor - and not bothered to mention it to her. That was fine. Marina was still quick on her feet.

Or she would be, if Diagon Alley was not packed to the brim with people heaving every which way, some of which included schoolchildren. Most of whom were taller than her. Merlin, she despised summer in the city.

Sure Miss Vane could not have gotten far, Marina tried to push her way through the crowd, and, having failed, rapped the tallest person in front of her with the end of her parasol. Rather insistently.

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Tiger's afternoon was being spent carting his Hogwarts aged children to and from different supply stores since the governess had recently quit after being terrorized a time too many. He would need to put up an ad for a new one for his remaining children but for now, Ma was helping out a lot.

Moving through the streets with his children in tow was a challenge but one Tiger was used to undertaking. At the very least, the older ones already knew what to do and could mostly handle things on their own. That didn't make them any less chaotic though. Luckily, Tiger was pretty adept at handling chaos. The streets were crowded and it was like moving through quicksand as he tried to get to the next shop.

Being the size that he was and his build meant that the parasol rapping him felt akin to an annoying bug of sorts so he didn't think much of it at first. Then he realized, it wasn object and he turned. "Yes?" He inquired as he pushed her parasol away from his person.

  

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Of course she had the misfortune of getting stuck in the crowd behind a sodding giant. Merlin, his arms were like tree trunks. Even with her parasol, she could barely reach his shoulder, and he didn’t seem to be noticing it in the slightest. 

“Honestly,” Marina muttered to herself, tutting under her breath at the lack of notice he was taking (and perhaps at her rumbling stomach, too), “I might’ve scaled you myself by now -”

She was interrupted by him turning, at last, though she narrowed her eyes at the way he pushed off the parasol, feeling it an undue sign of more dismissal to come. “Yes,” she repeated, clearing her throat, drawing herself up fully, and beginning in a more civil but authoritative tone, “Finally. Being as it is that I’ve no hope of getting past -” she used her parasol to gesture at all this, meaning the hopeless crowd (and nearly poking someone’s eye out with the point of it in the process), “- I require your eyes, if you would be so kind.” She hoped, if she spoke briskly enough, she would waste no time and leave him no room for argument. “I’ve lost someone.” And they did not all possess his... freak of genetics.

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Kentigern took in the woman as she drew herself up fully and began to speak. Rather authoritive at that. A bit like how it was when Ma was giving them all a dressing down after one of them had pulled an antic of undue porportions. A bit of a smile twitched on his lips as the woman indicated the crowd - or perhaps his own form, he wasn't sure - and requested the use of his eyes.

"And what does this someone look like?" Tiger asked, amiable enough to having his combination of height and sight be of use to the woman. To do so, however, he did need to know who he was looking for.

  

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“I daresay it’s not at all funny,” Marina cut in sharply, not missing his flicker of a smile, although she was mollified that he had seemingly agreed to the task, so moved on without further lecturing.

Like the devil’s child, she did not say. Instead, she clicked her tongue between her teeth. “A young lady. My niece. Twenty, and about yea high,” she gestured, disparagingly, a head above herself (not that the qualification disqualified many individuals), and continued instructing. “Light hair. Wearing a striped green frock. Went left out of Lytton’s, can’t have gotten far.”

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Tiger rather thought it was but did his best to keep his features schooled into a more serious demeanor. The first couple of descriptors could literally be anyone so were not much help to him. But green striped frock was a good tell. "And does she have your complexion?" He asked, taking note that the woman was of slightly tanner shade than the usual so called English roses.

  

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“My complexion?” Marina echoed with a frown, far too used to being bombarded by her husband's whining and her niece's jibes that it took her a moment longer than it should to distinguish between a thinly-veiled insult and a simple fact, remarked upon neutrally.

She supposed that that had been the latter after all. “No,” she replied decisively, pretending she had not been at all wrong-footed, “not quite. Her mother had the misfortune of marrying a pasty-faced Englishman.”

“I say with no offence intended,” Marina added quickly, realising that she had spoken a touch more truthfully than she usually allowed; Tryphena might be a pest and a porcelain doll, but she did try to keep that to herself in public. (Why, if she had her way she'd not care if her charge ever came back.) On the bright side, she supposed, the gentleman before (- above -) her had a complexion that was a little too weather beaten to be properly pasty, and she fancied his accent was a mark of not necessarily being English. (She hoped. She had never been much good at identifying all the odd dialects of the British Isles.)

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Kentigern nodded in confirmation, wondering if perhaps the woman didn't know what he meant. A smile snuck onto his lips as the woman answered his question. She had quite the colorful way of speaking.

"No offence could be taken as I am not an Englishman myself," the Scot assured. So, the young woman he was looking for was pale. He scanned thr crowds again and thought he saw the clothing that had been described. "I think I see her but I can't be certain from this distance." Then again, it wasn't like he knew completely what she looked like in the first place.

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“I did not think so,” Marina said triumphantly, rather pleased with herself for knowing it (or getting away with being rude without being confronted about it; either way). No, but his voice was gruff and growly that she hadn’t been sure what he was. He was so large he might as well have been another species entirely.

But there was no time to probe for further information - he had thought he’d spotted Miss Vane. A vainglorious attempt at escape, then! Aha! “Well, what are you waiting for?” She exclaimed, making a shooing motion with her free hand. “Let’s get her!” This may not have been part of what he’d signed up for in helping her - she had asked for his eyes, not his feet and legs (and brute force, if it came to it) - but she thought she would try and push her luck, see if he wouldn’t extend his good grace and help her get through this sea of people to her charge. “The lazy child never learned to apparate,” she said under her breath in something of an explanation: this was to her advantage, of course, always having Tryphena somewhere in the vicinity, whether she liked it or not. Like keeping a goat on a rope and peg.

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lady is a gift

Tiger had not been expecting that he also be meant to lasso in the wayward debutante. But the woman had an air to her much like his Ma in which you did what you were told and you best make your haste about it! "Excuse us, please," he said to the people he pushed past, his size as he made his way through them making it like the sea of people had parted for the woman. "Does she make a habit of this then?" He could not help but curiously ask.

  

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Look at her go, with a personal Moses to part the tides! Marina rather wondered whether she couldn’t employ this fellow on a day-to-day basis. (No, indeed, but she hadn’t the means to employ anyone these days, thanks to her bloody husband.)

At his question, she snorted. Makes a habit of giving me hell, she didn’t say, because if word got back to Cornelius Vane that she’d been badmouthing his daughter to strangers in the streets she’d face another circle of hell entirely. Still, she imagined this gentleman could see something of her dislike in her face. (She hadn’t much luck in hiding it, usually.)

How was the nicest way she could put it? “She might look like a young lady, but she’s still a child at heart,” she muttered to him darkly, with a knowing look in her eye that suggested if he had any experience of children at all he would know what a trial they could be. (She told herself this often, that her niece being a nasty piece of work was proof that all children were a nuisance, and she was lucky not to have any to care for. For a split-second here or there, she even believed it.) “But I am more than a match for her,” she added, narrowing her eyes as she thought she, too, caught sight of the dress he’d pointed out.

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The following 1 user Likes Marina Ramos's post:1 user Likes Marina Ramos's post
   Richard Gladstone

Kentigern could tell that the woman did not particularly enjoy her charge. It made his lips quirk a little in amusement and made him wonder how many chaperones of the world would rather their charge be out of their hair.

As a man with many children, Kentigern understood all too well what she might mean. His children were not all little demons but there were definitely some that tested the nerves on a daily basis. "I'm sure you are," Kentigern could not help but smile.

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“Thank you,” Marina said promptly, regardless of whether his agreement of her capabilities was honestly meant or just a sarcastic aside (if it were from her husband’s mouth, it would no doubt be the latter). With his help they were catching the girl up. Tryphena - for it was Tryphena, she was certain - had not seemed to notice them yet, instead rather too engrossed in chatting up some man. This was obviously rule number one of things not to do when Marina wasn’t looming over her shoulder, and thus Miss Vane obviously took an inordinate amount of pleasure in it.

Still, Marina was confident of catching her, and as a chaperon - and as an accomplished lady - she had long since learnt to multitask. Which was why she did not bother slowing down to continue her conversation - and indeed, to make introductions. “Mrs. Marina Ramos. And you are?”

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lady is a gift

Kentigern had to do his best to keep from chuckling when it became obvious the young lady has escaped in order to chat up men. Men that he was certain the chaperone would have driven disapprovingly for he did not look like the sort young ladies should be conversing with on the street.

"Kentigern MacFusty, pleasure to make your acquaintance. And I must say that this is the most interesting way I have met someone."

  

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“One does tire of the same old exchanges,” Marina said briskly, brushing off the fact he was a MacFusty (she did not know as much about them as some, but it explained the ungodly tallness and the accent both). She could forgive who he was for how much use he had been to her (she was also conveniently ignoring the fact that neither she nor her husband were atop anyone’s list of high-society-friends-to-make anymore, and thus couldn’t be picky when making acquaintances at all).

“I expect you’ll forgive me for not curtsying to you, Mr. MacFusty,” she added, her tone stern but her tongue visibly in her cheek; she was out of breath enough from the prowling after her charge without stopping to be faultless in manner. “I imagine if we meet again it will be just as interesting,” she said vaguely, “but I am afraid I must bid you my thanks and good-day, sir. I have a niece to corral.”

Merlin help her if Tryphena ran off with a tramp in the middle of Diagon Alley.

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lady is a gift

"Indeed they do," Kentigern said, clearly still very amused with this whole situation. It was going to make quite a story, at least. "I think I'll live," was his teasing response to the womans next words.

"Good luck with the corralling - perhaps next time we'll use a lasso much like those Western cowfolk." And with that the unlikely duo parted ways.

  

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