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.


A Wail of a Time
See Inside 
July 5th, 1888 — Fudge House, Sanditon
Holliday Fudge was nigh inconsolable.

She had considered her brother's venture into the fog to be quite the adventure to tell stories about later. It was all very mysterious, of course, but she had not considered it particularly dangerous—not even when news of locusts, of toad rainfalls had reached the resort. It was peculiar, but not life-threatening by any stretch. The Ravenclaw had not even teared up when she had seen him off.

That morning, though, Holliday stumbled across a copy of Witch Weekly left behind by one of the guests, and the cover feature had, understandably, caught her eye:

Fog Followers: Who May Triumph & Who Will Surely Die

Against her better judgement, the Ravenclaw's curiosity got the better of her and she had opened to the page in question, read its contents, and then gone into something of a tailspin. We suspect Mr. Fudge will soon be joining his father in a ghostly duet at the Sandition Resort.

The better part of half an hour had passed, and the fourteen year old was still sobbing in the bedroom she shared with Irene. She should never have let Somersby go into the fog!

Open to a Fudge or one of Holliday's friends!

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Everything that had been happening in Hogsmeade alarmed her. It was difficult to enjoy her rather lengthy holiday at the Sanditon knowing what sort of difficulties her family members were dealing with back home. For the past few days, she hadn't had it in her to do anything fun. She hadn't visited the beach, which had quickly become one of her most favorite places to explore. With Leah taking a nap back at the cottage, she was on her own to wander about. Being on her lonesome was a bit uncomfortable, so she found herself wandering as if drawn to where her other friends might be. Pru followed the distinctive sounds of sobbing --- and found Holliday in an awful, teary state in her bedroom.

She rushed into the room, concern etched deeply into her face, "Holliday, whatever is the matter? What's happened? Are you alright? Shall I fetch your mother?"

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If Pru had been knocking, Holliday had been oblivious to it, and so it was a start—one enough to stop, for a moment, her crying—that she realized the Gryffindor was now stood in front of her. The halt to the waterworks was short-lived; as soon as Holliday readjusted to Prudence’s presence, the came back with a vengeance.

“Oh-oh P-p-p-pru!” she choked. “Somersby is dying!”

Her father’s passing had been a traumatic event to the Ravenclaw, in spite of the fact that he had lingered on as a ghost. What if Somersby did not do the same, and he truly, fully perished in Irvingly? What would she do?

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"What?" She gasped in horror, "Are you sure? How do you know?"

Her immediate response after such questions was to find a way to fix it, to save him! Although... he was on that stupid expedition. Certainly they wouldn't allow a student to perish?! There wasn't much that could be done from the Sanditon, aside from letter writing. They couldn't get back to Hogsmeade. The train only was to be used by the proper personnel and in case of emergency. Wouldn't Somersby dying count for an emergency?

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set by Bee
By way of answer, the Ravenclaw all but threw the offending magazine at her friend, the sound of fluttering pages and her sniffling deafening to the distressed Holliday.

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Pru wasn't the quickest of readers. It was difficult for her to focus without getting distracted, especially by the moving pictures, but she did her best. Conscious that perhaps she was taking too long for her clever Ravenclaw friend, she took to skimming the majority of it.

"Come now, Holliday," She closed the magazine with a no-nonsense look on her face, "It's just a gossip rag. They make up half the things they write about - more than that, I'd wager. Somersby is in good health. It's just a slow news week. When has Witch Weekly ever wrote about anything accurately?" Pru arched a brow pointedly. Oh Merlin, she hoped that they were just puffing smoke up their skirts!

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set by Bee
Holliday thought as rationally as she could for a moment, but no such occasion came to mind. Whether it was because, as Pru said, Witch Weekly was a farce or because she was simply too distraught, however, the Ravenclaw was unsure, and she had far too much uncertainty in her life right now as it was!

“But even the Ministry couldn’t figure out what was going on—and I love my brother, but he’s hardly more qualified than aurors and obliviators and lawyers!” she protested instead through her sniffles.

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Arguing with a Ravenclaw certainly wasn't one of Pru's strong suits. Holliday flung logic at her, and all Gryffindor Pru had to offer up was empty reassurances. "He'll be fine," She said sternly, as if there was no question, "He's clever and brave. He'll be just fine. You'll see. He'll be fine." The more she said it, the more likely it would come true - right? The least it could accomplish would be to calm her near-hysterical friend down.

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set by Bee

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