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 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
She had lasted perhaps an hour on deck. Though the cool breeze, with its salty aroma, had done much to soothe her nerves, the fact that she simply could not stomach a sea voyage had swiftly become evident. Blythe did wonder if being able to see the waves that so jostled her might help, might allow her to clear her head, but every time she made a move towards the door she fell, vomited, or was otherwise betrayed by her landlubber's body.
The door to the cramped birth opened to admit Aunt Temperance. Blythe slid into a sitting position, keenly aware of the smell of sick about the room, even though her assigned bucket was charmed to vanish its contents every quarter hour.
"Is all well?" the young witch asked nervously—her default emotion in her aunt's presence. Blythe was not altogether convinced the ship would not sink before it reached Africa's coast.
Taking the air had been a grave error. After yesterday’s incident Temperance had hoped that her sea-legs would kick in but she had been sorely disappointed and after an initial feeling of calm, that had lulled her into thinking a walk along the deck might be a good idea, she had gotten halfway around before immediately feeling ill again. Not wishing for a repeat of yesterday she had made a retreat.
Accounting for stopping every few steps to regain control of her breathing she had made it back to the cabin in only fifteen minutes and thought that was a small miracle in itself. Being tested by the Lord was not for the fainthearted.
“I only wish it was,” she replied stiffly as she closed the cabin door behind her to shut out what she could of the world. Blythe was not faring much better than she was, that much was plain, but Temperance had hoped that if she was feeling better her niece might not be far behind – going from this morning they were both clearly far from being seasoned voyagers. Temperance leaned back heavily against the door and fixed an assessing gaze on Blythe. “Have you managed to keep any water down?”
"Not for long," Blythe reported morosely. Was it the nurse Temperance Fairchild or her aunt Temperance Fairchild making the inquiry? The former had always been more nurturing, but the latter tended to be more prevalent.
"And what is wrong above deck?" she asked, a bit more life—or at least, urgency—in her tone. "They've not spotted pirates, have they?"
“Not unless one counts Mr MacKay,” Temperance quipped with barely an echo of her usual bite, her lip twitching minutely. He had exceeded her expectation of him yesterday so she had certainly warmed to him – it didn’t stop him being a ruffian though, even if he was an occasionally useful one.
She crossed the room gingerly, pouring two glasses of water and flicking her wand to open the cabin window. The fresh air didn’t do much but she had a bone deep aversion to stuffy rooms.
“Drink this,” Temperance insisted, handing over the glass as she sat on the edge of her own berth which helpfully was barely inches away from the edge of Blythe’s. She reached up to rest a cool hand against her niece’s forehead. “It will all be worth it once we arrive.” She insisted, as much for herself as for Blythe.
Lord help her. Even if she survived this trial, there was still the African continent to, likely, kill her. If a snake did not bite her, an elephant not trample her, and a nundu not poison her, Blythe would still have the local cuisine, her nerves, and close quarters with her aunt threatening to end her. It was not a delightful prospect.
She had always been told the Lord did not give her more than she could handle, and wondered if it was blasphemous for her to have proven the statement wrong. Blythe Fairchild could not handle this!
The witch did her best to drink down the liquid as directed it, but, quite tragically, wound up projecting most of it onto Aunt Temperance.
Temperance had spent so much of the last few days lamenting her own sickness that she had scarcely entertained the notion that for some it might even be worse. As it was she was just about managing, albeit without her usual vim, Blythe on the other hand…well, it was certainly clear to her now that their were degrees of this rottenness.
Really, she ought to have known better.
“Perhaps a smaller sip?” Temperance advised, unphased by the regurgitation. She collected a cloth from the washing bowl and rung it out, pressing the cool water against Blythe’s feverish brow. Her niece was hardly in danger of perishing but it didn’t make Temperance any less comfortable watching her suffer. “I have half a bottle of sleeping draught,” Temperance offered, brushing hair from Blythe’s brow gently. It would be better this way, lonelier for her no doubt but she would rather than that seeing her niece suffer so much. “It will see you through the worst though I fear not all the way there. It will be worth the journey,” she insisted, practically through gritted teeth.
It was as though God Himself were stood in front of her, dripping with vomit, offering her salvation.
"Please," she was able to muster with a frail nod. Perhaps if she could sleep through the journey, she would wake to discover all of this had been an unfortunate dream.
Temperance tried not to take it to heart that Blythe was looking at her with more naked relief than she had ever seen on her nieces face before as she took out the vial she had tucked underneath her pillow. She had brought it for herself – Temperance had always struggled to sleep in new locations – but Blythe’s need was greater and she took out the stopper with a sigh.
“Here, just a few sips for now. There should be enough and when you wake up I insist you eat something before going back to sleep,” stroking back Blythe’s damp hair Temperance saw her to sleep then leaned back against her own pillows comforted that at least one of them was able to escape this endless trial.
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