10th February, 1892 — Pennyworth, Hogsmeade

She had seen all the headlines in the past few days, as if all the talk was not bad enough. Kidnappings, plural! Granted, they were mostly society sorts, of the classes the papers would make a fuss about – Audrey had insisted that no one would be interested in abducting any of the Corners, for they would not have any worthy ransom to pay – but that had not stopped Viola’s imagination. Not one bit.

She hadn’t stopped going to and fro from work, of course, but besides The Modiste Rose and home and the odd stop at the market, Viola hadn’t really been going anywhere, just to be safe. Not that she thought she was special enough to get abducted, particularly; more because she didn’t trust herself to be able to save herself if she wandered into danger.

So, she was at home again (cleaning, in theory) and otherwise bored from her head to her toes, so eventually Viola slid up the sash of the Corner girls’ front room window and watched the passers-by with interest. Eventually, she saw a likely candidate and stuck her head out, waving them over. “Hello!” She declared pleasantly, grateful her elder sisters were both out at work. They would probably be hurt she was turning to strangers for help. “You don’t happen to know any good jinxes, do you?”

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'Business' meetings - that is to say meeting less then scrupulous business men who didn't want to get their hands dirty to find out when and where they wanted their shady cargo delivered or picked up, were something of the bane of Isis' exustence. She hadn't the patience for those who thought that a meeting in their private study to talk about duty free brandy delivery required the cloak and dagger of dragon smuggling was exasperating as all hell - but it did pay well and she managed to get better prices out of them than Gibbs did -they saw the old first mate coming a mile away with his prices that were 20 years out of date.

For a second, just a second she thought the woman's comment through the window was a nasty, sarcastic joke at her expense, but of course there was no way this random girl could have possibly have known that Isis' wand was ornamental. 'What?' she asked again her tone low and suspicious of the other woman's rationale for shouting at strangers through the window like a lunatic. Is this what people's lunatic relatives did during the day? 'Are you speaking to me?'

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Viola observed the other woman, her eyes wide in abject interest. It was a terser answer than she had expected, but she didn’t know what sort of day the other woman was having – perhaps she was just far too busy to indulge strange girls at the window.

“Yes, I was,” Viola admitted, affably enough; although she had quieted slightly, a little abashed as well. “I wondered if you knew any good spells, you see,” she explained again, deciding not to comment aloud that this woman had seemed capable and confident, stalking down the street alone – but not too intimidating for Viola not to be brave enough to ask her.

She was beginning to think maybe this woman was too intimidating to have asked. “I’m trying to learn some self-defence,” she added, suddenly worried the stranger would mock her for the idea.

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Isis managed a lop sided smile, 'Did you know...' she withdraw her fathers wand from the sleeve of her coat, 'That an assailant can cover about 20 feet before you could draw your wand and use it.' she recounted sagely, it was a fact her father liked to tell her, comfort for the fact that a wand would be beyond her reach and use, 'and a throwing knife travels 100 thousand feet per second.', and faster than could be believed a knife appeared in her other hand, cunning misdirection and the with a practiced throw embedded in the wooden frame of the window.

As a squib, magical self defense was not something that would ever be of use to her - but when it came with to the blade, or indeed her fists she was more than a match for most wizards - or at least so she thought.

'If you rely on your wand, you could be disarmed, but your fists' she indicated her own, now empty and balled fists, 'They can do a lot of damage if you know how to use them. Isis eyed the house, 'How in the market are you?'

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Viola’s eyes went wide at that fact, and then even wider at what happened next. The woman hadn’t cast a spell, but there was a sudden thunk and Viola curled her hands into each other, relieved she hadn’t had her hands on the windowframe, because now there was a knife sticking out of it. Viola stood still, trying not to be startled out of her skin.

It felt like it might be time to slide the window closed again, and maybe lock the doors, in case this woman worked with kidnappers or criminals or some other assortment of frightening people – but, admittedly, Viola was already learning things from this woman, so maybe she would give it just a minute or two more. (But, really, who was this woman?)

“Gosh,” Viola said, bobbing her head along in some attempt to seem impressed and not-at-all taken aback by the stranger. “Oh wow. I see,” she echoed, already feeling silly for having thought jinxes were the way. At the latter question, how in the market are you, Viola’s mouth opened and closed again, guilelessly. “I – well, I visit the High Street market most weeks?” she supplied brightly, unsure of what the woman was asking. “Sometimes I sell crafts!” She knew how to make handmade things, see... but she truly had never used her fists for anything. Hm.

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Isis smiled, gosh she really would get eaten alive based on her current level of niavety.
'How in the market for lessons are you?' Isis repeated, 'I meant if you're paying for the lessons love.' she smiled, it was broad and self satisfied but not unkind. It wasn't her fault that life had been kinder to her than it had been to Isis, that hadn't she hadn't been forced to learn some of these particular home truths.

'An exchange of goods for services.' she added glibly in her accented English, that was nebulous, and from somewhere and no where at the same time. Isis' long and baggy trousers, blousy top more reminiscent of her mothers homeland and long raw leather jacket set her apart from the other residents at the street, the clothing was clear and neat, but entirely different in terms of style and appearance. She chuckled again at her own cleverness. 'Are you looking for a teacher?'

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Close to this

  

“Oh,” Viola said, cheeks pinkening at her obviously juvenile misunderstanding. And at the question of paying. She – wasn’t sure how much this woman would charge. She seemed to know plenty, there was no question of that, but she also didn’t seem like... the most reputable teacher, so maybe she needed the money?

Unless by services she meant Viola could pay in something else. (Perhaps she could sew her a dress. She seemed to be lacking in clothes, and had had to adapt a man’s outfit for her own ends. Not that she wasn’t wearing it with admirable ease.) “I don’t have much,” Viola said honestly, of her available funds, “but I do have a little saved up – and if there’s anything I might do for you in return, I should be glad to do it. I really would like to learn.” She looked at the woman earnestly, eyes wide and pleading.

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Isis' behaviour had clearly ratteled the much more proper young lady, while the other wasn't a debutante she clearly had much more concern about the proper limits of society than Isis had. Isis smirked again shaking her long and shaggy head, 'We'll sort something out' she assured,'....if you're interested that is?' Isis affirmed hastily. As she though on it, she had a fine roll of Egyptian silk that she was sure Gibbs would appreciate if she had turned into a 'nice' dress.

'I live on my ship, so you might find me there if you want to start lessons, that's probably the best place to do any lessons you might want.' she explained.

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“Oh yes, I’m interested,” Viola said, in a rush – in spite of all her doubt about who this woman was or how high-stakes these lessons would be in themselves (for she was supposed to be keeping out of danger by this, not getting into it), she was still desperate to do something.

And she had never met anybody who lived on a ship. Or owned one, for that matter. “Of course I’ll come,” Viola nodded seriously, as if she were taking mental notes. “Where – exactly is your ship?” she added. Probably not Hogsmeade, anyway.

So she was going to have to make up an excuse to sneak out of the house sometime, because none of her sisters were going to let her wander off to a strange woman’s ship.

But she wasn’t scared. She’d do it, and she would learn how to use a knife as well!

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Isis smiled and nodded, acknowledging the others enthusism and rather nejoying it. It would be nice to teach a wizard something - her lack of magic had never much held her back but there were times when she was in Hogsmeade that she felt the very real difference between herself and the other members if the magical community, beyond that which was obvious by virtue of her ethnicity or her quirky dress.

'I'm in the Greenland Dock, Up London' she explained, 'If you get up to diagon alley, it's not far from the muggle entrance of the leaky cauldron. It's a muggle dock, just so you know.' she explained, ignoring her own need for Gibbs to use his want to allow her into and out of the magical London.

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Viola nodded again, entirely serious as she soaked in the instructions. Really she ought to write them down, but she was nervous that the woman might walk off if she left the window for even a second – she seemed the impatient type – so she just repeated the directions to herself in her head.

Diagon Alley. Getting as far as there would be no problem at all. Viola had never really wandered around muggle London, but her heart was already fluttering with the adventure it would be – and she gave the woman a conspiratorial smile, feigning more confidence than she had. “Lovely,” she said, in her best impression of matter-of-fact, the sort of tone she gave with customers at the modiste’s; “I can blend in. I barely know any spells at all, anyway, so that doesn’t make very much difference to me.” She said it without her ordinary bitterness, for once seeing a use in it. “I’m Viola Corner, by the way,” Viola added briskly, extending her hand out of the window for a handshake as if this would make a real promise of their deal. “And you are?”

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Isis smirked 'Captain Isis Silverthorne' she acknowledged the other woman's introduction by confirming her name. 'The ship is the Black Kite,'[b] which in Isis' view was the more important introduction. A captain was only as significant as her ship and in her view the Kite was still an impressive vessel - the truth of that assertion was distinctly up for debate.

[b]'when you get to the docks, don't ask for it, lots of bad sorts there, you'll see it, it's a triple sail vessel, if you see a very short man pottering around on the deck there is a good chance you've found us. He wears a spotty cap...thing, he's hard to miss.' she added with a smile, her First Mate, Mister Gibbs could usually be found walking the decks as a duty officer on parade. While the Kite didn't keep much in the way of fulltime crew, Gibbs still took his position incredibly seriously.

Isis appraised the house, it was painfully 'proper', 'Wear something you can move in - trousers ideally.' she said in a tone that questioned if the other woman would even own a pair.

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She had no idea how she was going to get away with this without telling her sisters, but even having a secret such as this was deliciously terrifying – or terrifyingly delicious. She was already bursting with it, her imagination wheeling far ahead: when she was good at defending herself and throwing knives like that she’d demonstrate it one day, casually. She could already see her sisters’ open mouths.

Or she would end up dead in a London dock by next Tuesday, but that daydream didn’t have quite the same thrill. Viola pushed it firmly out of her mind.

Captain? Viola hadn’t known women could be captains. (And she hadn’t called herself a pirate, strictly speaking, but this all felt very Robert Louis Stevenson, and now she was making up all sorts of stories about Miss – Captain – Isis Silverthorne too.) There was still a lot to soak in – bad sorts and triple sails and spotty caps and trousers! – but Viola was almost vibrating in excitement.

She didn’t own any trousers – hadn’t dreamt of it – but she would say almost anything not to prove this pirate captain right about her and small boring ordinary life. “That’s easy. I’m a seamstress,” Viola said with a wide smile. She’d used to do patterns for Gladrag’s, or she could hem some old clothes of her father’s. “I can find some trousers. I’ll see you at the docks, then.” Hopefully Captain Silverthorne was serious about this, because Viola was.

Deadly serious.

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Isis gave a lop sided smile - the woman's gusto and apparent intention to take part in this training was almost impressive and somehow she was sure that the young lady's adamant expression of intention to master this training was as intense as it seemed. She just might succeed all things considered.

'I look forward to seeing you there' she offered with an inclination of her head, tossing her head and looking from the girl to further up the street, the direction she had been travelling before she had been addressed. 'Till then!' she tipped to her and with a final wave headed off up the road to rendevous with Gibbs and update im on their latest ventures - one of which was apparently training young women in knife skills.

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