Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1894. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Play a character aged 35 or older for one month. Non-humans do not count. Show this by submitting two completed threads started one month (or more) apart. Threads must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
It’s quite unusual for a caster's patronus to be their favourite animal, but very possible that it will take the shape of a creature they’ve never before seen or heard of. — Amy
There was a young woman talking to him, but Ezra's eyes were focused on the shadow that flitted behind her shoulder. The tiles weren't working as well as they once had. He should have been fine for this party. He'd agreed to chaperone Johanna and he'd prepared for it with a game ahead of time and he should have been fine, but instead the shadows were swimming in the middle distance and he was distracted every time one appeared.
"Hm, sorry?" he asked, when he realized she was waiting for him to reply to something she said — something he had entirely missed in his distraction. It was the second time he'd had to ask her to repeat herself, but he'd forgotten that until the words were already out of his mouth. Her expression made it clear she hadn't forgotten. Perhaps we can continue this conversation when you have more appetite for it, Mr. Applegate. Goodbye, then. The way she left made it clear she was not especially going to be looking for opportunities to reopen the conversation. Well, fine. He didn't really care about talking to young women at parties, anyway. He was only here for Hanna's sake.
He stood for a second after she'd departed, doing nothing except nervously watching something only he could see, and then decided maybe he'd best get a drink. He couldn't leave yet — he'd pinned this magnolia to his breast pocket only forty-five minutes ago, and Hanna would be disappointed to leave less than an hour in. Maybe having a prop to hold on to would help him fake his way through these interactions better in the meantime.
He turned a corner and came up on a shadow that was too close, which startled him backwards. He caught his foot on an uneven garden stone and nearly fell, but steadied himself on the nearest hedge. The unevenly trimmed branches scratched his hand and the trickle of pain was steadying, somehow — he decided to stay where he was, one hand in the bush, while he took a deep breath or two and tried to focus the shadow away.
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
In the weeks since learning the truth of Ezra's curse (or what she now guessed it to be) she had spent what little free time she had in various libraries. Her bedroom had now become a library itself with how many books she'd stacked about the room in her efforts to find some clue of how to help him. They could never be together again — she spent nearly every evening convincing herself of that — but if she could help him...
If she could help him, perhaps that would be worth some forgiveness. It would be enough for her to know he was no longer plagued by whatever haunted him.
Her problem now was without knowing the core issue there was little progress to be made. She could speculate and make educated decisions, but those could easily derail the entire process if she were to get a single detail wrong. And, rather unfortunately, the only one who could answer her questions was someone she'd sworn to herself she wouldn't approach again.
Rosalie had entirely forgotten her promise to attend the garden party and would have sworn it off completely had her mother not purposely visited the London townhouse. She was exhausted, for between her shifts at the hospital and her research Rosalie was leaving far too little time for sleep. Her nerves were frayed, her hands jittery. A party wasn't something she ought to have been attending.
And yet, there she was, her crown of bright blue delphiniums wandering amongst her peers as though she had a single vested interest in attending.
Rosalie wouldn't have noticed him as immediately as she did were it not for his stumble. She had long since schooled herself out of the habit of searching for him in crowded rooms, for nothing positive had ever come from any of their interactions following their separation. She drifted towards him on instinct, her expression neutral as she took in the too-similar sick expression on his face. This was neither the time nor place to mention his curse, but Rosalie still found herself asking, "are you alright?"
It was a reasonable question given that he had just half-fallen into a bush. "Fine!" he said, forcibly bright, before he'd even bothered to see who it was who had asked. He kept his attention focused on the shadow for half a second instead. It wavered, poorly defined edges wobbling against the brightness of the garden behind it, and seemed to consider wafting forwards, but then fell off to the left instead. The shadows didn't move like people, for all that they had the same silhouettes. It was one of the easiest ways to tell the ones in the distances apart from actual shadows, because they way they moved was wrong. The ones that were closer up didn't need any tricks to tell apart from reality — when they got up this close, it was always obvious what they were, because the number of shadows would be greater than the number of objects that could reasonably cast one.
He turned his attention to the person who'd approached. Rosalie. He pulled his hand out of the bush so quickly he nearly threw himself off-balance in the other direction. "Fine!" he said again, even more enthusiastically than before, as if he could make it true — or at least make it believable — through sheer force of will. "Uneven cobblestone there. I was just getting a drink. I'm fine!" The third time he had said the word fine and he regretted this one; it was still too chipper but now seemed to carry a note of mania in it as well.
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
If Rosalie hadn't spent weeks thinking of him and how to help, she might've believed his first two fine's enough to leave him alone. She had no place in his life, she had no right to demand truthful answers from him. It was entirely fair for him to expect her to leave.
She nearly did, too, and likely would have were it not for her increased bravery. "Okay, sure," she said cautiously, her tone betraying her skepticism. "Do you need me to find someone?"
Why did Rosalie have to be here at a moment like this? He should have been fine, and he thought in a few moments he might be. The shadow that had crossed the path had slipped through the middle of the hedge and disappeared, and the others he could see were farther away. He just needed to be on his guard, and he was experienced with this now; after he'd caught his breath, he could handle this. And even if he hadn't been fine, he didn't want her to be here witnessing him being not-fine. After Halloween especially, he didn't want her pity or sympathy. He'd been mostly avoiding her since then, but if he wanted anything from her it was probably (a little spitefully) to show her how well he was doing without her, and sitting here trying to catch his breath with one hand scratched from the bush wasn't doing him any favors in that regard.
"I don't need help," he said — or at least, surely that was what he'd meant to say. The words that had actually left his mouth, he realized only after speaking them, were "I don't need your help."
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
She nodded. There were a million questions on her tongue that were restrained only by the look on his face. "Fine." Rosalie muttered back at him. She didn't wait for him to further push back at her, she had little interest in being rejected (yet again) by him. Not when she had only wanted to help.
Steeling her spine, Rosalie graciously walked away and rejoined the party. If she quietly told the nearby butler that someone ought to locate his sister, well Ezra could hate her for that too.
![[Image: 4gk4CZ.png]](https://c.l3n.co/i/4gk4CZ.png)