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Fern-hunting parties became popular, allowing young women to get outside in a seemingly innocuous pursuit with less rigid oversight and chaperoning than they saw in parlors and drawing rooms. They may have even had the occasional romantic meetup with a similarly fern-impassioned beau. — Bree

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"The Prodigal Sister" for Ophelia Devine. Faked deaths, scandal, and schemes!
Now that he had walked up to them, he couldn't exactly whirl around and get going. That would be rude. And was not, presumably, how straight men seduced their future wives.

Cassius Lestrange in Eyes on the Screen

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The Dozen

Complete a twelve-post thread in which each post has exactly twelve words. At least three posts must be your own.


The War Doesn't Stop for Anyone
June 3rd, 1888 - Frederick and Sarah's House
Unsettled by Cass' vision a few days ago, Meer had spent no small amount of time waffling about it before finally deciding that Sarah ought to know. Once she told Sarah, she would make the rounds to Abe and Leo, and then everyone in the family would know. Not that Miriam knew what it meant; nor, she thought, did Cassie. But it meant something bad was happening, and while that vague something was not enough to pilot Miriam towards the Prophet, it was enough to send her to family.

After a few days of long shifts, she finally had a day off. Miriam apparated from her home with Cassandra in Swallowbury to the outside of Sarah's home, a familiar gesture that had her arriving with a crack! Politely - although MT was not known for politeness - she knocked on the door.

Frankly, it had not occurred to MT that seeing Frederick was an option. She tried to forget about him as much as possible when she was not coming up with ways to hurt him. So as soon as he tugged the door open, Meer remembered that he did live here when he was not cavorting with his whores.

Her expression soured; eyebrows flattened, mouth pressed into a thin line. "Frederick," Meer said disdainfully.

Frederick was enjoying his favorite morning beverage when the knock came at the door. Enjoying may have been a strong word; the cup of coffee laced with a trace of cheap whiskey was just what made the mornings bearable, and any feelings of actual happiness rarely played into the matter. Frederick had never been a morning person, but as he'd aged he'd acquired a small-but-annoying headache that troubled him every morning, until he had a drink. The magic line to cross was about halfway down his coffee mug, and he was still an inch away from it when the noise interrupted him.

It could have been worse, he figured as he looked over his sister-in-law and swung the door open a little wider. If it had been one of his siblings he would have felt obliged to be nice.

"Miss Miriam, what an absolute delight," he said with obviously put-on cheerfulness. "To what do we owe the pleasure? We haven't forgotten a birthday for any of the little Trelawneys, have we?" Or a birth, he added sarcastically in his head. All of Sarah's siblings seemed to be procreating as prolifically as their mother had done before them, without a care in the world as to who would raise the resulting offspring. It was an odd turn of events that he had ended up with the one member of their large number who was opposed to handing her virtue out before marriage — and the one who, even years after the marriage bans had been read, still hadn't managed to create a small army of Trelawney infants.
"Mmmmnope," Miriam drawled. One of these days, Frederick was going to go too far - she thought it was inevitable - and she was going to get to hit him. She was very much looking forward to this, but knew that she ought to hold off until the moment came.

"Is my sister around?" she asked, perking up for the first time. If Sarah was in, then she could dispense with this interaction as soon as possible, and be on her merry way back to Irvingly. Thank Merlin.

"Oh, I expect so," he said with an offhand shrug, being intentionally vague because he thought that would be the surest way to annoy her, and he liked poking the bear, so to speak. Particularly when said bear was incapable of actually swatting at him, because he was still married to the bear's sister and at least a show of good relations had to be maintained. "It's not as though being a welcome witch is the sort of job where you get called in at all hours to deal with emergencies," he continued. He had always been rather dismissive of Sarah's "occupation," though luckily he didn't think they had such a difference of opinion on that. She sat at a desk all day and smiled at people, for Merlin's sake — though at least they did pay her to do it.
Miriam sighed, but not in annoyance - she sighed because she agreed with him, which really meant that she was being terrible because agreeing with Frederick was a red flag. But Sarah's occupation could be done by anyone, and so could Cassandra's - she loved them, she did, but they were not exactly changing the world, were they?

"I don't suppose I can talk to her?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. "It's important." Or, at least, it could be.

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