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First names were most often used by childhood or school friends. If the friendship was made after school age, first names would only really be used by women. Men were far more likely to refer to their friends by their surnames, a mark of familiarity. — Documentation

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Emilia Wright for Jude Wright. Casually alienating offspring since 18882.
Separating was also not a great idea, though they weren't doing great at staying together anyway. If she were to volunteer to be the human sacrifice.. well... Hogsmeade had plenty of debutantes anyway...

Barnabas Skeeter in CYOA: Group D

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Complete threads set in ten different forum locations. Threads must have at least ten posts, and three must be your own. Character accounts cannot be combined.


Wasted Lives
August 3, 1888 - Yaxley Residence, Wellingtonshire, Hogsmeade

Phoebe Yaxley

A month had passed since Kenton first stepped into that hell hole of a casino. A month. He’d gone on a venture to prove something, he honestly didn’t quite know what, and lost an entire month of his life. He was lucky he hadn’t lost his life. He did acknowledge that, but he also felt with more certainty than ever before that his talents were being wasted as a healer. He knew what he should be doing and slowly a picture and clicked into his mind of how to get what he wanted. Every moment he sat at this dinning table his resolve stiffened and the picture grew clearer.

Upon his arrival back in society his family had insisted on dinner. He’d agreed. It was only perfectly reasonable that they would be worried over even the spare son. But the second dinner he had been invited to the night following was with his older brother and Phoebe. It had been bad enough watching Gregory slowly stumble over every word the night before but this summer was torturous.

It was only when after dinner drinks wrapped up and Gregory excused himself that Kenton relaxed. Phoebe had brought a bottle of champagne with her into the gardens and they sat on a bench pretending for a moment that everything was well in their lives.

How has the last month treated you? Really.” Kenton asked, keeping his actual concern out of his voice for a careful placidity of neutrality.
The previous month and a half had gone by in a bit of a flurry for Phoebe. The introduction to the "pills" in her life had been something of a game changer. The presence of the man in her home had made quite the difference as well. He, however, had vanished from the house a week or so ago. It was probably for the best because just a few days prior the fog all but vanished. Phoebe had let out a sigh of relief that her life could go back to normal. With magic at least. It would never be the same again.

And then Gregory had shown back up. She'd popped a pill almost instantly at the sight of him. In all the time that he'd been gone, she'd begun to realize just how much she loathed his very existence. She wished he hadn't even come back. But he had and then she'd been forced through a dinner with his entire family. The only saving grace had been the opportunity to invite Kenton to dinner at her own home. She'd been beyond grateful when her husband had excused himself off to his study and she'd been able to wander off into the gardens with Kenton, bottle of champagne in hand.

She'd just finished pouring him a glass when he'd asked a rather pointed question. She regarded him with a raised brow, not entirely sure how to answer such a thing. "It was going rather well," she said honestly, sipping on her own glass of champagne, "And then the fog lifted and he came home." There was no way to misconstrue what she meant.
Accepting the glass Kenton watched his oldest friend's face carefully, noting every small movement she made. Wondering if her thoughts laid in the vein his did. "Is it really that bad?" He asked nodding his head back toward the house. Clearly indicating the him with the gesture. He had heard Gregory had gotten stuck away from home, a welcome reprieve for Phoebe, but if it were really that bad perhaps she needed a more permanent reprieve. Contemplating the thought Kenton downed his glass in one swallow. He really could use something stronger. "You dont happen to have anything stronger, so you?" Kenton waved the empty glass with a hint of a tease in it. Conversations such as these called for a stronger drink than light and fluffy champagne.
Phoebe continued to regard him with a raised brow, giving him a pointed look as if to ask if he really meant what he was asking. She took a long sip of her own champagne before deciding to actually answer him. "You lived with him longer than I have," she responded coolly, "You should know how bad he really is." She'd only been stuck with him a couple of years, after all, but even she'd been able to see how worthless he was.

Smirking at his request for something strong, she saw to finishing off her own glass before pulling her wand from her dress. With a flick of her wrist, the glasses were gone as well as the bottle of champagne. A bottle of a fine bourbon replaced the bubbly liquid. She didn't bother with glasses of it this time, clearly he needed something stronger so there was no point messing around at all.

Bringing the bottle to her lips, she took a drink of it. Licking her lips after she'd finished, she handed the bottle off to him. "Will that suffice?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle to her blue eyes as she watched him.
Phoebe gave him that look. The one that told him he was a fool for saying something. She'd pinned him with quite a few in their school days but it still held the same weight. She was right he knew the answer. But with what was rolling in his mind he reasoned it worth the question.

In the signature way that Phoebe had, she granted his request. Bourbon replacing champagne with startling speed. No glasses this time. Kenton couldn't help but smirk as he watched her. Really Gregory had no idea just what a woman his wife was. Gratefully Kenton accepted the bottle, downing a long deep gulp of the fiery liqueur. Really the Americans could at least make a rather delightful drink if nothing else, bourbon almost put whiskey to shame.

For a moment he allowed them to sit in silence, taking another long swig before he brought up what he was thinking, handing the bottle back to Phoebe. "What if he weren't around anymore?" His voice was quiet, despite knowing the charm he'd put in place when they came out here. It wasn't uncommon that one or the other of them would put such a charm around when they had such chats in the garden.
The silence was bearable with Kenton. Phoebe never felt like they constantly needed to fill the air between them with trivial words if they didn't need to. It was nice, really. Most may assume her to be an empty headed woman with of worth to be said but she was actually quite intelligent. As such, it was pleasant to allow the silence to simply rest around them.

She'd closed her eyes and rested her head back during the silence, only coming from her reverie when she felt the nudge of the bottle being handed back to her. She'd just barely gotten it to her lips when he asked his question. She hesitated, the bottle wavering just slightly before her before she calmly took a sip of it. His question could mean a lot of things, some things that had crossed her mind in the past but she wasn't about to admit something outright. At least, not until she knew where he was going with it.

"He's been gone before," she responded lightly, her own voice taking on a quieter volume simply out of instinct. The raised brow as she watched him, bottle resting gently against a leg, spoke far more than just her statement though. Clearly there was an underlying question there, wondering just what he was getting at.
Yes, but he’s always come back.” Kenton broached cautiously. “What if this time he didn't?” For as much as Kenton despised his older brother he was almost surprised he was mentioning the darkest corners of his thoughts about this. But Phoebe had always allowed him to speak as such and if he were going to do something she would be the one he’d confide in.

The most troubling thought was not that he was even contemplating such a course of action, but that Phoebe might not want him to pursue it. That she’d rather live with the dimwit the rest of her days in misery than see such a plan through.

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