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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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Iola Hitchens for Elladora Black. The Blacks' black sheep.
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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You're Out of Control
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January 13th, 1889 - Rose's office
Rose didn't deal with the boys. They were very literally not her problem, in that they were not in her job description. She sometimes had interactions with them, because Archie was a student, but these were seldom disciplinary. Not her problem. This all was to say that when things reached the point that she was getting involved, they were in a dire state: and this was what she reflected on as she sat across from Mr. Vance at the desk of her office.

"Why do you think you're here?" she asked. They were starting out light, easy questions, Rose could not immediately deliver a 'you need to get your shit together' lecture to a student she did not know very well.

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Harry had been on a bit of a hormonal streak of anger as of late. It likely came with the whole growing up puberty and hormones of a teenage boy but he seemed to be particular angry as of late. But, that didn't mean he was about to admit any such thing. As far as he was concerned, those that got the brunt of his ire brought it upon themselves. The obnoxious first year had bumped into him and made a mess of things. The ridiculous Jemima Farley had started her demise thanks to all the awful words she'd written about him. Anyone else, well, they were just collateral damage and in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But then he'd been called into the house matron's office and he had a feeling he was in for something of a lecture. He'd rolled his eyes when he'd been summoned but gone anyways. And now he sat there in a chair across from her at the desk and it was obvious just by the look of him that he'd rather be anywhere but there.

"Can't say I've got a clue," he answered with a nonchalant sort of shrug.


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