Did you know?

The Language of the Flowers was a popular method to express feelings where words might be improper, but did you know other means of doing so? Some ladies used their parasols, as well as their fans, gloves, and hankies to flirt with a gentleman (or alternatively, tell them to shove it!). — Bree

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Ester Montgomery for Thomas Montgomery. The one that got away (with the pornographer...)
This boy, then. He wasn't new. Wasn't one of the worst people in the common room, those rotten rich boys - like Mr. Jailkeeper - who could not fathom a world beyond their own farts. Was a good working class lad, so he'd heard. Had a bit of a weird looking face, and a bit of a weird thing for preaching. Still.

Aubrey Davis in The Under-Sofa

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Post at least once with the same character every day for a month.


Seeing Stars
With a flutter of nervousness (it was probably that kind of thrill more than dizziness, fall or no) Daisy tucked her arms about his neck as though that would help him carry her, as though she wasn't lighter than a sack of potatoes already. Anyway, he was being tremendously kind, and caring, and worrying about her especially! Wasn't that a lovely feeling! She'd say it was a little like having a parent, only the one parent she had met in her life... hadn't done much of that, so Mr. Goyle was a mythical person if ever she'd met one.

"Top secret preparations," Daisy said, delighted at his interest. She expected he could tell that was a lie - that no one would entrust her with anything terribly important - but if he so much as chuckled at her teasing, the collision would the lamppost would be well worth it. "I do all sorts to help out, see. I know practically everyone there, an' I do anythin' they need me to." (Not well, necessarily, but with gusto, which ought to count for something.) "One day maybe I'll get to be an act myself, maybe." For a split-second, she had considered pretending she already did something awe-inspiring, but she wasn't sure he'd believe it. "Are you going to visit the festival this summer?" She asked brightly. "I know it's not all same as usual in the fog, but there's still... some stuff to see!" (Her, she meant, mostly.)
Silence wasn’t heavy, but she still tried to make carrying her easier. And although it didn’t help much, Clifford appreciated the effort. Also, from his experience, many children would spill any secrets as soon as they got a chance. Especially if it was something exciting (which carnival definitely was). But Silence kept hers. Top secrets, even.

Considering how she tried to help even in small details, and how carnival organizers entrusted her with secrets, Silence’s parents must have been so proud of her. And it was a shame such bad things as robberies happened to such seemingly good kids as Silence. Jesus probably had higher standards for decent folks and sent them more difficult tests sometimes.

Carnivals relied on mysteries and unexpected. So it was fair for Silence to maintain the element of surprise, and Clifford interrogated her no further. What he initially meant as a distraction from troubles turned out to be a test of resolve, unfortunately. ”Understandable,” he said and smiled, ”No more carnival questions then.”

The healer doubted he would participate in many carnival activities, as such festivals were vice and most likely frowned upon by Jesus. Still, Clifford didn’t want do disappoint Silence, ”I’ll surely check the carnival if my work allows." This way in no way a lie. Just a conditional promise, with a very slim chance of the condition being met. "But the fog made it much harder to do my duties, while the amount of incidents grew,” he added.

The two reached the Hospital, and Clifford carried the girl inside, greeting some other healers who happened to pass by. He then lowered Silence to a chair in the main corridor, ”Finally here. Would you like some rest before I check your head?”

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