Charming is a Victorian Era Harry Potter roleplay set primarily in the village of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the non-canon village of Irvingly. Characters of all classes, both magical and muggle — and even non-human! — are welcome.

With a member driven story line, monthly games and events, and a friendly and drama-free community focused on quality over quantity, the only thing you can be sure of is fun!
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    And More!
     
        
     
    The Story of Your Red Right Ankle
    #1
    Private Thread 
    @Maeve Connolly @Odira Potter

    Reuben wasn't exactly used to turning in early on any given night, but there was something about having to stay up because you were at the hospital that felt especially exhausting, far more so than staying up for pleasure or even to do nothing at all. It hadn't been particularly late when they'd eventually figured out what was wrong with him and released him, but then he'd had to get himself back to bed and had slept fitfully the rest of the night, the hallucinations he'd briefly suffered coming back to him as strange, senseless dreams.

    The next morning he'd been cowering over his coffee in the downstairs lounge of Excalibur when a group had enlisted him for the game of lawn tennis they intended to start over at the park. Tired though he was, Ben was always up for an impromptu game of just about anything imaginable, so he'd ambled over with them, entirely taken aback at the spectacle that had filled the park. The picnic had probably been well-advertised, but between making preparations for Mexico and then the disastrous trip itself, Ben had been entirely oblivious to it.

    They were making their way through the patchwork blankets towards an open green area when Ben felt something jab unexpectedly at the back of one of his ankles. Reflexively, he kicked back at it, then turned, thinking that he'd probably just injured someone's dog--though if the dog had so little manners to bite at strangers' heels, he couldn't say he was sorry for it.

    The dog, however, was unlike anything that Ben had ever seen--except it wasn't, not really. As the thing struggled to its feet, Ben realized it wasn't a dog at all, but a gnome. Where it had come from or why it was after his ankles, Ben had no idea, but his kick seemed to have decided the little devil that he was outmatched; as soon as it had gotten to its tiny feet, it started off to Ben's right, diving towards the skirt of a passing lady. Ben was muttering under his breath and taking a step to follow before he realized that, if the monster got under the skirt, it would probably behoove him not to follow it, particularly not in the name of chivalrously saving the lady's ankles.

    "Watch out," he cautioned instead, pointing at the gnome. "It bites!" Or stabbed, maybe. Ben hadn't really seen what it had done to him, but it hurt, particularly when he was trying to run after the gnome and was only managing a hurried hobble.

    #2
    “If she’s so desperate as to fancy you,” Maeve retorted at her cousin, dismissing his protests that she was ‘abandoning them’ before the his latest fan joined them, “then I think I should spare myself her company!”

    Even as she spoke, she was already backing away, and at the last, the redhead turned on her heel, definitively leaving the Connolly gentlemen—and very loosely did she use that term!—in her wake. Theirs was a family that spent a great deal of time together, and so every once in a while, it was best that she remove herself—did absence not, as they often said, make the heart grow fonder?

    Shouts and laughs surrounded the auress as she made her way amongst the picnickers, stopping briefly to chat with this acquaintance or that colleague. Much of the noise blended into a soft hum, so much so that she did not notice the warning of the unfamiliar gentleman, nor an increase of breeze as the hem of her skirts was lifted.

    She did, however, notice with a great deal of agony as something sharp dug into her Achilles tendon, dropping the redhead to one knee with a rather unladylike swear of pain.
    @Reuben Crouch
    #3
    The lady didn't so much as turn her head when he tried to caution her. Perhaps he should have been louder, but it was too late for such reflections now. He muttered a swear under his breath as he saw her fall--and was quite surprised to hear her do the same, a bit louder than he had.

    He felt a little at fault for her accident, even if he had nothing to do with getting the gnome onto its rampage through the park in the first place. Ben knelt next to her, his own ankle still throbbing, and offered her a hand if she needed to steady herself. "Are you alright?" he asked, but didn't wait for her to answer before peering around her at the area where her feet had been. "Bugger got me, too--where's he gotten off to?" he asked suspiciously, leaning over to the other side of the redhead in time to see the gnome tumble out from her skirts, apparently having been unexpectedly caught up in them as she'd fallen. "Ho! Watch out!" he said, struggling to stand up and fumbling for his wand so that he could stun the thing.

    #4
    Hastily with wand now in hand, Maeve scrambled backwards away from the offending beast, though did not actually have the presence of mind to use the device. How in the hell had a gnome found its way through the ridiculous layers of fabric that declared her a lady to assault her?!

    “I’ll live,” she offered the fellow bravely as the gnome darted away, though even as she spoke she could feel a coolness around her wound—it was likely bleeding.
    #5
    Ben's fingers had just closed around his wand when the gnome decided that it wasn't worth the trouble to come at either of them again, and turned to scurry away. He probably ought to have stunned it anyway, to save some of the other picnickers the trouble of having their ankles nipped, but it was small and fast, and he thought it he tried, he'd either end up stunning some of the surrounding grass, or worse, hitting one of the park-goers he was attempting to protect. Warily, he lowered his wand and turned his attention to the lady.

    "I can look at it, if you like," he offered, sitting down next to her on the grass without ceremony and tugging at his pant leg so that he could eye his own wound. He was no healer, and had no illusions that he had any hidden talent in that area, but he knew a few basic things and he could typically stop a wound from bleeding and mend minor ills. Traveling as frequently as he did, this was more or less a survival skill, as he was quite often far from any sort of established hospital. "I can patch up some minor things, and I don't imagine a gnome could've done too much damage."

    Whatever the gnome had done, however, he had done under the lady's skirts, so Ben wasn't about to press the issue if she didn't want his help. It was probably just an ankle or foot--at least, judging by the size of the gnome and the height of Ben's own injury, he didn't imagine it could be much more--but some ladies could be particular even about that.

    #6
    “By all means,” she replied, tone very much implying why the hell haven’t you yet as she hiked up her skirts more than was necessary to reveal her ankle, though still—her ancestors would be proud—diligently keeping her knees covered. With so many brothers and cousins at home, not to mention the men at work, Maeve had never been shy around the opposite sex, and ‘demure’ was hardly a descriptor that suited her.
    #7
    Some ladies, on the other hand, weren't particular at all, and it seemed that this particular redhead fell into the latter category. Ben couldn't help but glance around before he turned his attention to her ankle, though he didn't know why--it wasn't as though he could do anything to make this look better, when she already had her skirt hiked up.

    Their wounds were, unsurprisingly, very similar--small gashes with some irritated, reddened skin around them. Ben cast a charm he knew to stop bleeding, first on her and then on himself (he was apparently enough of a gentleman to think ladies first, though not enough to be as shocked by her sudden display of flesh as he ought to have been). He flexed his own ankle experimentally, and it twinged painfully at the motion. Ben frowned, then raised his wand again. "Hang on, I've got a soothing spell, too," he said, again applying the spell to her ankle before his own. "Better?" he asked, as the cool sensation of the second spell spread over his own foot.

    #8
    Belatedly, it occurred to her that allowing a strange man to work magic upon her naked ankle sounded both unadvisable and, if written down, like something out of an awful romance novel. Still, she could not help but admire the man’s work—as an auror, she herself knew a few very simple healing spells, but was rather rubbish about remembering to actually use them.

    “Much,” she replied as a coolness soothed her punctured flesh, and seemingly cooling her temper as well. With little ado, Maeve dropped her skirts back into place, absentmindedly smoothing out her skirts. “D’you often spend your time remedying gnome injuries?”
    [-] The following 1 user Likes Maeve Connolly's post:
       Reuben Crouch
    #9
    "Not gnomes usually, no," he replied, pocketing his wand with a wary glance over his shoulder to ensure that the little devil wouldn't be headed back now that he was defenseless. "I'm a cursebreaker," he explained, pushing his own trouser leg back into place and then moving to stand up. "So I just know a few things--the sort of things that might keep you alive long enough to get to a hospital, you know," he said with a humble shrug. "But usually it's a little worse than that. Gnomes aren't a very popular choice for guarding ancient treasure-laden tombs, as you can probably imagine."

    #10
    “Why not? The wee bastards are savage enough,” she pointed out darkly as she moved to stand once more.
    #11
    Ben chuckled. "Maybe so," he admitted, glancing in the direction that they'd last seen their gnome. "But they're not quite as flashy as some of the other creatures you could choose, and the sorts of people who set up curses on their crypts have one thing in common--they all think they are very important," he said with a grin. Maybe some of their arrogance was deserved, because obviously people like Ben wouldn't be able to make a living breaking in to their tombs and robbing them if they hadn't had something special buried with them, but the way some of the crypts were laid out and designed, one might have supposed half of these dead witches and wizards thought themselves gods. Some of them actually had.

    #12
    “Think themselves kings, do they? And what does that make you—a burglar who doubles as a mediwizard in a bind?” Maeve had caught a few of those in her time, and this one, frankly, was one she wouldn’t be wholly averse to catching, in a different sort of world where she was fussed about such things and actually appeased her mother for once.