Did you know?

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

— Submit your own —

"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

— Nominate a quote —
The Dozen

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


Who's That Girl
10th June, 1888 — The Fountain, Salem Square
Dionisia Tweedy
When he got his hands on the utter bastard who had caused his current, dire circumstance then Enoch did not think he could be held accountable for his actions. He certainly doubted anybody would deny him the pleasure given that he was an auror for the Ministry who had bravely entered into the mystery fog of Irvingly in pursuit of a criminal and the man in question was an illiterate scumbag who Enoch was convinced – from his few sightings of him – had yet to master the ability to wash.

Gritting his teeth Enoch tried, for the third time, to push himself to her feet but, for the third time, his ankle buckled the moment he tried to put pressure on it and he fell backwards, narrowly missing the edge of the fountain with his head. He swore as he sat up, dragging himself until his back was against the marble stone and grasped for his wand. He tried to shoot a red spark into the sky but, as anticipated, nothing came from the tip of his wand.

“Help!” He called, feeling an utter fool and swearing to himself as he did. “Is anybody out there?!”
[-] The following 1 user Likes Enoch Rosier's post:
   Frida Lestrange
While the Ministry may have ruled for the moment that the fog itself was harmless, it was apparent that the effects it had on both the magic and non-magical community meant that wasn't the case. While she hadn't heard any reports of suffocation, coughing fits, or poisonings from the dusty substance that clouded the air, she had been dispatched to deal with reports of collisions, trippings, and sticky situations that people were incapable of magicing themselves out of! Altogether, Dionisa had just grown impatient—especially since her wand didn't work here.

She'd been in Irvingly that afternoon on routine—it had become protocol for one mediwizard or witch from Hogsmeade Hospital to be stationed in the nearby village—when the cries of a gentleman were heard. Dionisa had made it through the day unscathed, yet had been finding her stress levels rising simply because her vision had become impaired.

Thus, she relied on her hearing to find her way to the auror, who she didn't notice until a foot appeared through the thickness of the fog. "Sir!" she called, moving closer until his entire body came into sight.

"Sir, what's happened to you?" She addressed him in alarm, crouching beside him and beginning to search his body for any profuse bleeding—or worse. Hopefully, this was nothing more than a mere tripping.

set by Stefanie
Post Log
Having spent the last Merlin-knows-how-long quite convinced he was going to be stuck here until his ankle miraculously healed itself or he was desperate enough to drag himself to the edges of the village Enoch was so thankful to hear a voice that he didn’t care in the slightest who it belonged to. It could be the fat, muggle Queen for all he cared, as long as they had a pair of working legs he was pleased to see them!

Fortunately for him the woman that appeared through the fog appeared more capable than he could have hoped for and as she crouched next to him he immediately felt relief begin to sweep through him.

“I was in pursuit of a criminal and the degenerate led me along a perilous path,” he winced as he attempted to bring his ankle to her attention. “The result I’m afraid, was not to my favour.”
In pursuit of a criminal, he'd said.

"You're an auror then," she stated as more of a matter of fact than a question. "Well fortunately for you, I'm a mediwitch," she said, beginning to rummage through the contents of her pockets—which, fortunately, took advantage of an undetectable extension charm to ensure she had everything needed, including potions, bandages, and bottled ingredients. Pressing a hand around his leg, she made out the distinct swelling in the surrounding area and took great care to avoid direct contact. The last thing she needed was a good knee to the face.

"What caused the injury? Bang it against the fountain? Spell damage?" she questioned, all the while unraveling a bandage. While forcing him to walk on it was perhaps not the best course of action, it was the one that would see him under the care of a better-trained hand.

set by Stefanie
Post Log
A mediwitch. Merlin, if he were a godly man he might have sent up a prayer of thanks but Enoch had never darkened the doorsteps of a church and never would; still, it did not lessen the intensity of how glad he was to see her. She was even pretty – this day, clearly not his finest, was improving if he was now to be tended to by a comely medic.

“Devastating assault,” he lied. He had fallen over, pure and simple, but as he had been impaired of vision and in pursuit at the time Enoch considered it to be very much the fault of the bugger he was chasing so a small fib was called for. He didn’t want to seem the pillock he felt after all. “The bastard tackled me in the fog and sent me flying before I knew what had hit me,” he added dramatically before pausing, his instinct kicking in over the pain. “Please do excuse my language miss, it has been quite the day.”
[-] The following 1 user Likes Enoch Rosier's post:
   Edric Umbridge
Any other situation might have prompted a roll of her eyes, but this was serious—there was really no telling what was lurking in the fog, especially with how thick it was. She diligently worked to wrap the ankle as quickly and gently as she could, all the while wondering how heavy he was and if it would be even possible to support his weight if he managed to get onto his feet. He had to be at least half a foot taller than she; it seemed unlikely.

"Language be damned," she murmured, though she was sure he could hear her through the dead silence of the day. Most people have opted to stay indoors, which was good. "There are more important things to be concerned with than manners at the moment—don't you think, Mr....?"

set by Stefanie
Post Log

Forum Jump:

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)