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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.


Mr. Brightside
"I'm going to apparate downstairs, I think," she said. Merlin, she hoped that Julian was blackout drunk. If he was near-sober, he would be able to see through her right away - well, maybe not see through everything, but he would probably guess the kissing parts.

She had to get dressed, first. To do that she would have to remove her arm from his chest, pry herself away from the bed, and find all of her clothes. She angled her head to kiss the side of Mr. Darrow's arm where it was wrapped around her. "Can you - help me fasten my corset?" Zelda asked.

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Apparition. "Oh," he said again. He was keenly aware that he was sluggish and tired and drunk, and she didn't seem to be any of those things. Miss Zelda Fisk seemed, aside from a little sweat and an adorable red flush in her cheeks, largely unaffected by what had just happened. She was going to dance around the room like a lithe little pixie and be dressed and gone before he'd even found his under garments. He had very little confidence in his ability to get a corset on to a woman (or even to help in that respect), but it wasn't as though he could say no.

"Yeah," he agreed, lifting his head to glance at the doorway. "Where is it?"
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   Zelda Fisk

"Um," Zelda said, "I'll find it."

She was reluctant to leave his bed, but removed herself from it and stepped onto the floor. Bloomers - she had lost those last, and they were by the bed. She put them on, feeling suddenly embarrassed that Mr. Darrow had seen her so naked, which was rather ridiculous, considering what they'd been doing. The chemise was only a few feet away, near the door. Zelda stepped into it and pulled it up. On the other side of the door, Zelda plucked up her corset and scurried back over to the bed.

"The latches are in the back," she explained, pulling the corset on, "I think they're a little out of sorts, but as long as one or two are set..." She was just going to change into her sleep clothes when she got home, anyways.

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"Okay," he said, blinking at the back on her corset and trying to resolve the jumble of clasps into something that made any sort of sense. How was she already so dressed? He hadn't managed to do more than sit up in bed, leaning against the wall behind him and trying to orient himself in the small dim room.

He managed to get it closed — or, at least, he thought it was closed — with a fair bit of fumbling. He wished he knew where his underthings were. His erection was rapidly deflating and he was starting to feel exposed and a little ridiculous.

"Sorry," he mumbled, but he wasn't even sure exactly what he was apologizing for.

Her corset was at least secure enough that she could get home without flashing anyone else. She was going to have to redo her dress, and - well, the hood should cover her hair, which had been in disarray even before they had gotten to the bed.

She turned to look over her shoulder. The corners of Zelda's mouth twitched up in a sort of smile. "I wish I could stay," she admitted.

When she left this bubble, it was all going to be so much more real.

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He almost said me too, but it wouldn't have been exactly true. It wasn't that he wanted her to stay so much as that he wished she hadn't ever gotten up from the bed in the first place. The spell that had been keeping them together in the same plane of existence had already been broken. He had been about as intelligent and useful as a mountain troll since she'd gotten up, and she was so graceful and elegant by comparison she seemed almost ethereal. It wasn't as though she could stay now. He couldn't wrap his arms around this clothed and poised variation of Miss Zelda; he could barely bring himself to touch her, in the limited way required to help close her corset.

Instead of answering he cast about for his underclothes and hastily put them on after finding them at the foot of the bed. This minimal amount of clothing gave him the confidence to stand up and catch her elbow, then lean in for a quick but still relatively deep kiss.

"That was..." he started, intending to compliment her and try to convey some sense of how enjoyable their liaison had been for him. He realized only after he'd started speaking that he didn't have any appropriate adjectives in his vocabulary to describe it. What was he supposed to say? That it was good? Fun? That likely would have insulted her.

She smiled into the kiss, but when it ended she still had to find her brother and leave. Fuck. "Yeah," Zelda said, because she didn't know what else to say. What else was there to say? He was leaving, and she was leaving, and - she wished she could stay.

"I hope you find it," she said, "Avalon."

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Avalon? Alfred flushed, not sure how to respond. Of all the things they could have said, he was probably least prepared to talk about the expedition at the moment. He had always been more interested in leaving on an expedition than the actual destination itself, but he didn't know how to admit that without seeming foolish, and he was already feeling foolish enough.

"Uh, yeah," he said. He wished he had more clothes on. He had the feeling that maybe if he could just make this look slightly more like a normal interaction, he would be able to find something normal to say, as well. He didn't get a chance to test the theory, because by the time he'd stumbled over to the other room and gotten his pants on, she was already mostly dressed. The only thing left to do was hand her the capelet that he'd discarded in the corner. He held it out to her hesitantly, unsure of what he ought to say. Should he kiss her again? Was she expecting him to? Was she expecting him to say something, or ask her to stay? He could ask, but there wouldn't be any point; they both knew she had to go. This shared moment shouldn't have even existed at all, and now it was drawing to an end.

"So," he said awkwardly, his tone almost more of a question. "G'night."

Zelda took the offered capelet and tied it over her shoulders, pulling the hood over her (extremely scattered) hair. She had to go, before her brother realized that anything was amiss, although he may have noticed already. But before she left, she took a moment to try and really commit him to memory: Mr. Darrow standing there, in the lamplight. She smiled at him, widely

"Good night," Zelda replied, softly. She gripped her wand and, with a crack! was gone.

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