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

— Submit your own —

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

— Nominate a quote —

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


Hard Times
Hard times
Gonna take you down and laugh when you cry
These lives
And I still don't know how I even survive

July 1st, 1888 — Gringotts Wizarding Bank, London
Spryly sat himself down on one of the large marble steps leading into Gringotts and buried his face in his hands. He could beg and barter his way like a pro with most humans but he'd never managed to sweet talk his way around a goblin. The damn creatures were the biggest sticks in the mud he had ever come across and he could only be thankful that he hadn't been born one.

He had once again failed to get even the smallest loan from the bank and as such he was doomed to homelessness. Again. At least it was summer and a temperate one at that! He lowered his hands and looked at his broom and the small bag he'd attached to it filled with his few worldly possessions. Fat lot he had to show for his existence so far! If only he could find a broom maker in need of an extra pair of hands. Better yet a way onto a professional quidditch team.

As he looked up, he spotted a familiar face. In an instant he turned from dejected to grinning, albeit not as wholeheartedly as usual. "Clay!" He waved a hand in the air to draw his attention. Failing to do so, he cupped his hands about his mouth and called out in a mockingly stern voice, "Clayton Beasley!"

Clayton didn't really like putting his money in the Bank, but he understood that it was the safest place for it... well, he sort of understood. He preferred to have his own things close to him so he could keep an eye on them himself, but with money... well, for one it was hard to keep in large quantities, and most quantities were too large if you had a job. For two, he did live with his brothers and as much as he loved them... no, he didn't want to keep his money around the apartment.

So, the bank it was. He was about to head inside to make a small withdrawal when he thought he heard someone call his name...? Then again. Yup, someone definitely called it. He furrowed his brow, what was that persons tone for? He looked toward the sound and his eyes settled on Questor. His friend was sitting on the stairs, calling out to him, a strange looking grin on his face. Clay shook his head, "oi! You could give someone a heart attack yellin' like that," he replied, making his way over to the guy.

He raised an eyebrow, assessing the picture that was Questor Spryly on the steps of the bank. "Let me guess, you're here to get fashion ideas from the rich bank goers?"

Spryly chortled at his friend's response. "Are you tryin' to say I don' already look fashionable?" He gave an animated tug on his lapels. "I'll 'ave you know my tailor only serves the best o' the best!" He nodded at man walking past, "Like that toffer!" He leaned back against the steps as though luxuriating in a comfortable chair rather than angular steps.

"What you up to then, takin' a crack at the legendary security?" Even Spryly had no desire to challenge the infamous security measure of Gringott's, although he could only imagine what sort of riches he might pry from the cold, dead claws of a dragon.

Clay gave a rather animated eye roll as his friend tugged on his lapels and spoke about already being so fashionable. Clay turned his attention to the 'toffer' that Questor nodded toward, and then chuckled before turning back to the now lounging man on the steps. "I wouldn't expect any less of you, my boy," Clay said, puffing out his chest a little, trying to sound stuffy and 'gentleman' like. "I suppose fashion is fashion, no matter what sort of mop wears it," he added with a wink.

Clay shrugged at Questors question as to what he was doing there, "sadly, I didn't inherit as much of that Gryffindor bravery from my brother as I'd hope," he chuckled. "Much to cunning for that sort of thing," he added, in reference to his own former house, Slytherin. "Just was going to make a small withdrawal, like any responsible adult. But you... what are you really doing out here? Can't be anything good."
He envied the other man and his steady employment, what he wouldn't give for a fancy vault with enough money in it to be worth Gringott's renowned security. Spryly sighed heavily and feigned a wistful look up the steps towards the bank. "Thought I'd make sure them lot was lookin' after my 'oard of galleons properly." He looked back to his friend with an amused grin that made it abundantly clear he was jesting. All the same, he didn't really want to admit the real reason he was there or that he had lost his lodgings again.

Best to change the subject. "You still up to that violin stuff?" He poorly mimed the action of playing a violin as if the violinist wouldn't know what he was talking about with a physical prompt.

Questor sighed dramatically and moved toward the bank, saying that he wanted to make sure they were guarding his money and all. Clearly joking. Clay shook his head, chuckling. "I'm sure your vault gets the best of the best, dragons and all," he suggested, playing along with the jest. He didn't make that much money himself, and he definitely knew that Questor didn't. In fact, Clay wasn't even sure how his friend was making the money these days.

Questor asked about the violin gig, mimicking the playing of the instrument, which caused Clay to laugh. "Aye, part time there and part time travelling," he confirmed. "And what are you doing these days? Besides giving fashion advice?"
The only way he saw himself ever meeting a Gringott's dragon (which he had absolutely no desire to do) was if he was robbing the vault it was guarding. It was nice to think he might one day have a vault of his own though, even if it did seem like a ridiculous pipe dream at present.

"I'm the Minister's personal adviser," he joked, folding his arms leisurely behind his head and leaning backwards on the steps. "He comes to me with all 'is big questions like should 'e open a department o' cauldron enchanments and whether 'e should wear the black robes or the gold ones. 'Always wear the gold ones, Mr. Minister, sir!' I tell 'im."

Forum Jump:

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)