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 five threads of five posts or more where your character experiences bad luck, such as stepping in a chamberpot, losing the rings for a wedding, etc...
Did You Know?
One of the cheapest homeless shelters in Victorian London charged four pennies to sleep in a coffin. Which was... still better than sleeping upright against a rope? — Jordan / Lynn
If he was being completely honest, the situation didn't look good, but Sylvano was not in the habit of being completely honest about anything. No reason to start now.
— Sylvano Capobiancoinyou & me & the war of the endtimes
He was not going to beg the human! Gilbert utterly refused to debase himself in such a way. It was ridiculous they were even having anything akin to a negotiation and he was already frustrated beyond belief. And yet, his nerves were fraying and he wasn’t exactly sure what else to do. Patience and understanding had never been his forte.
“Are you proposing we meet regularly? In person?” he demanded. Now that was a shock. He hadn’t imagined the human would want anything more to do with him after he’d all but withheld oxygen and threatened to kill him, multiple times. Was still threatening, technically. Why he would ever want to willingly be in the same room as Gilbert again, the vampire wasn’t sure. But he’d… take it? He supposed? It was the sharing bit that seemed unlikely.
Gilbert sat up and crossed his arms over his chest, chewing on this new information. “I’ll admit,” he said after a moment. “I hadn’t taken you for a masochist.” But if Eventide was offering, Gilbert wasn’t sure he could would deny it. And agreeing to touch-points in person seemed like a lot better of an alternative than begging. He wasn’t sure his self-control would be any better than it was today; but Eventide didn’t have to know he was capable of gentlemanliness. The less he expected, the better they’d be.
Still— Gilbert didn’t quite buy it.
Eyes narrowing, he studied the human’s face for any sign of a trick. “What is your angle, Eventide?” he asked, rather accusatorially. “Why would you consent to meeting on a regular basis with a vampire who has tried, and threatened multiple times now, to kill you? Wouldn’t it be much simpler” for both of us “if you just sent an owl with some unimportant little facts every few days?” Gott, it would be for Gilbert. He didn’t want to have to stomach seeing that face in person, live and up close, regularly. It was bad enough he knew now it was out there, unsupervised!
Matty scoffed. How would the vampire know anything about whether or not he was a masochist? Whatever Prusseneit thought he did or didn’t know about him was either derived from his delusion or whatever person—vampire, he corrected himself—from the 1500s that he may have resembled.
The suspicion he received surprised him at first. And then he realized that the vampire was now the one misinterpreting him, rather than the other way around. Interesting. “Oh, I assure you, I was not suggesting or consenting to any such thing, Mr. Prusseneit.” He explained evenly. Of course he was still terrified, particularly with the predator right there, but even the threat of death could not remove the sass from Matthew Eventide. ”I was merely pointing out the typical avenues of someone decent. In the future when you mistake some poor soul for your long-lost grandmother or the little girl that crushed your favorite toy as a child, you might try that approach first and see where it gets you.”
He forced himself to lean forward the tiniest bit, toward the vampire, as if he was fully confident and not at all afraid (though his pulse and tension in his arms certainly gave him away.) ”I see no reason to agree to any of your stipulations, Mr. Prusseneit. It sounds awfully inconvenient—owl or not.” Not to mention, the very idea of having to stay in contact with this death-on-legs was horrifying. After today, Matty would do everything in his power to ensure they never met again. If that meant he had to find a new haunt that wasn’t the Veil, then that was a sacrifice he would have to make.
Gilbert was thrown for a loop, as he very well suspected Eventide expected him to be, at the words the ridiculous human said next. It was like he had a compulsion he couldn’t control to go about and piss off the very angry predator trying to kill him… An alarming facet to his personality indeed. And even further proof that Gilbert could not leave him duly unsupervised for long. (How he’d survived some thirty-odd years, the vampire wasn’t exactly sure.) Swallowing the impulse to point any of this out, Gilbert pursed his lips.
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you then, Kaninchenlein,” he offered, reasonably. “Unless you have something you’d like to ask for in return to make our arrangement more palatable, you don’t really have a choice.” And Gilbert was proud of himself for not doing anything more threatening than stating that fact. He was itching to, but he didn’t. “You can either live in this room forever—for which, I’m sure I have much more time than you to wait it out— or you can find it somehow within yourself to swallow my petty little demands.”Or die. But he kept the latter to himself. Locking Eventide up was looking more and more appealing by the second.
Matthew Eventide & muse song
* little rabbit (his fear of capture myopathy is real with this one lol...)
The witty response he’d provided had gotten him nowhere. Too bad there wasn’t an audience or at least the house elf Marlowe here to keep score. He definitely would have earned points with that one. Prusseneit was determined to be a thorn in his side for absolutely no good reason other than his having gone senile. “What does that mean?” he asked evenly. “If you’re going to insult me, at least do it in a language I understand.” His polite cheeriness had been completely wasted on the vampire, and now he no longer was in the mood for it. This was no longer amusing to entertain. Matty was quite ready to leave.
Though with the vampire still hovering over him, there really was no escaping it. The Veil had magical enchantments that were supposed to protect its members from such dealings (kidnappings, involuntary imprisonments, that sort of thing.) Surely that would kick in if the vampire was truly attempting to do so? Matty had never seen it activated, so wasn’t entirely certain how the logistics worked.
“You want me to write you an owl once in a while with random facts about myself.” Matty clarified, his tone making it very clear how he felt about the request. Aside from it being oppressive and out of left field, it was also a very strange thing to request of someone, particularly a person you’d just met. “In exchange for what exactly? I don’t even know what you could give me.” Certainly nothing that was in this horridly furnished room.
Finally, something he’d said seemed to irritate Eventide and Gilbert felt a triumphant little smirk steal across his face. “It wasn’t an insult,” he responded lightly. It was more of… a fact. A comparison really. “It means little rabbit.” Because if Eventide’s heart pounded any faster in his chest, Gilbert was worried it would give out entirely— like a rabbits when it was cornered and captured and killed itself of a heart attack. (He was rather concerned about it, but less so now that they seemed to have settled into a conversation. Or something akin to one.)
As for that other bit— “Not random,” Gilbert clarified with intention. Good, they were starting to get somewhere. “Comings and goings and names of those whom you interact with most.” He gave a little flourish with his hand. He didn’t care to know about Eventide’s food choices, or anything banal like that. His gaze slipped back to study Eventide’s expression then, weighing his next response.
From everything Gilbert had learned of this man so far— he had no realm of understanding at all into what he could possibly want or ask for. It was a good thing that in his line of work Gilbert was so accustomed to IOUs else the very notion of not knowing would grate on him, endlessly. He gave a less toothy smile that was almost genuine, but still sharp around the edges and said: “Anything you like.”
Matty’s lip curled slightly in distaste and he sank back into his chair, “Little rabbit certainly doesn’t sound a compliment either.” He looked nothing like a rabbit, in fact! His teeth and ears were an appropriate size, he had green eyes, and he… oh. Perhaps it was more to do with him being considered prey than the actual animal. Though that didn’t sound like a compliment either.
“You said you need a few weeks only?” he said shortly. “Then my favor is if I owl you thrice weekly for the next three weeks, you stay out of my life for as long as I live.” There. Matty would put up with this nonsense for the minimal amount of time, and then he’d move on and pretend it had never happened.
If he laughed lightly at Eventide’s comment, Gilbert would deny it forever after. He didn’t make sounds like that— human sounds of amusement and delight. Besides, Eventide was prey. He might as well get used to it.
When the other spoke again however, whatever lightness had lifted in his chest vanish immediately. He should have been thrilled the stupid human was agreeing, no matter what the terms were. And if he didn’t like them, it wasn’t like he had to follow through. He could lie, cheat, steal. Nothing was off-limits to the indulgent vampire. But he wrinkled his nose anyway in distaste. It wasn’t a fair deal. He couldn’t give Eventide that. Even if they did figure out what this link was and why he looked so much like Oliver (was Oliver? Gott, it made Gilbert’s stomach clench to even think)— he couldn’t in good faith promise to keep away. He was already attached, however unwittingly and by his own design the stupid attachment was, until Eventide walked himself into a grave. Even if it was an early one by Gilbert’s hand.
“Do you want me to lie or…?” The words were out of his mouth before Gilbert could catch them. Verdamt! He’d actually said that aloud, hadn’t he? Sliding off the armchair and rubbing a hand over his face, the vampire forced out another laugh. Honesty it would be, he supposed.
The frustration was evident as he whirled around and pressed one hand to the chair on either side of Eventide, leaning over him very, very close. “Listen here, my little Kaninchen,” he whispered evenly. “I won’t lie to you." (As if it was some grand favor to either of them, pft.) "That is the only thing in this world I cannot promise. Riches, favors, answers, even the possibility of changing the course of history itself— you can have it all. But don’t think, for a single second, now that I’m aware of your existence, that you’ll ever be rid of me again. I may fade into the background, I may be noisily in your peripherals. There may even be gaps as the years go by. But I will always be somewhere— within arms reach. And don’t think it won’t be a tremendous inconvenience to me too, because it is, but—” Gilbert paused and his face screwed up into something pained and aching before he could school his features. “Until we know what the cause is of your… familiarity? There won’t be any answers on what the future looks like. So let’s just take it one step at a time.” Gilbert straightened and tugged at his waistcoat. “Who knows,” he drawled. “Maybe there is a future in which you never have to see me again. But we won’t know for sure until then, will we?”
It didn’t take a seer to know that his request was going to be denied. Perhaps Prusseneit wasn’t aware that his thoughts were written all over his face or simply didn’t bother to hide them any longer. Either way, the distaste and sharp rejection in his eye told Matty everything he needed to know. Although the mention that he could just lie was surprising. Why would he bother admitting that he would lie about it? It wasn’t as if Matty truly had much control over the situation.
At least that had made the vampire slide away—leaving his chair entirely. But it was too early to heave a sigh of relief. He observed him warily, hopping between laughter and frustration in a blink. And then he was close again, closer than he’d been before, leaning into Matty’s space and essentially trapping him in his chair. The little speech that spilled from his lips then was the most horrifying thing he could have said. And from this distance, Matty had a clear view of the razor-sharp incisors that could easily shred him to pieces.
His heart raced instinctively; perhaps he was a little rabbit after all. The flight or fight had kicked in well and good now—the flight urging him to duck beneath Prusseneit’s arm and dash out the door. It was impossible to accomplish, but that didn’t keep his body from twitching from the need of it. And then the vampire had straightened once more, and Matty could stop holding his breath.
Matty enjoyed breath play just as much as the next man, but this was definitely not it. With the mention of the future… his ears perked up. That. The future. That was something he could rely on. If fate had decided that this was what was in store for him, then he would accept it. If not, then he would have to find some way out of it.
And so, through his shaky breaths, he said, ”Have a cup of tea. I want you to drink a cup of tea here, now, right in front of me.” Just because Prusseneit had explained his intentions didn’t mean that Matty was required to.
Gilbert was pretty sure he was giving himself whiplash about as badly as he was giving Eventide. (If that skittering heartbeat was anything to go by.) A headache was beginning to bloom between the vampire’s temples but his emotions kept rocketing up then down, then sideways and back around.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to get the stench of Eventide out of it and clear his own head for a minute but the request for tea was abrupt and rather… random. Seeming. Random, seeming. Gilbert didn’t know what in bloody blazes tea was going to do for them, unless Eventide poisoned it, but he hadn’t asked for Gilbert to take a specific tea. Just any tea. There had to be a reason, right? Turning towards Marlowe (who had appeared in the corner as if summoned, bless him), Gil gave an almost imperceptible nod. He’d do just about anything to end this encounter quickly and favorably.
Then, he collapsed into his original chaise with a frown. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve consumed anything but blood?” he asked, idly, not realizing how horrific that probably sounded. It was to make a point, however. “I hope you recognize the effort I’m making for you. Despite that kaninchen heartbeat of yours!” Said with a huff, more than any real bite. By the time the elf returned with a cup of tea and set it on the table between them however, Gilbert was beginning to second guess. He muttered a quiet "danke" to the elf and curled his lip at the swirls of steam coming from the mug. Disgusting.
Still, he'd agreed, and with no more hesitation than impulse was due-- Gilbert swallowed the steaming liquid in two large gulps. If it burnt his dead tounge on the way down, he didn't so much as flinch. He let the cup and saucer rattle noisily back to the table as he replaced them. "There. Do we have a deal now?" he insisted, impatience flashing behind green-blue eyes.
There hadn’t even been a question as to why he was making such an odd request. The tea had been ordered (funny how Marlowe appeared now rather than when Matty had been being strangled) and with only a minor complaint, his request was granted. The nickname ‘little rabbit’ was still sticking around, apparently, but he couldn’t bring himself to care just yet—everything, everything—hinged on this cup of tea.
Though it may have been to his peril, he ignored Prusseneit’s question (which had been more of a demand than anything else), waved his fingers towards the cup and saucer, and then snatched it out of the air after it levitated in his direction. Expertly, as if he did this every day—which he did, every day of his life since he’d been old enough to hold a teacup—he swirled the dregs three times with his left hand, then turned the cup upside down on the saucer. Matty removed the cup, ignoring whatever sounds and looks the vampire was making, and studied the patterns the tea leaves had made.
Gilbert waited, impatiently, for Eventide to do… whatever the hell he was going to do. He didn’t understand at all what the tea was necessary for, or that it had anything to do with how his little rabbit might react, but he knew humans generally had their things. He didn’t question every single one he came across or he’d never have time for anything else. This particular thing looked an awful lot like… squinting into the trash though. Idly, he contemplated Eventide's sanity.
Unable to help himself, Gilbert leaned forward and stared at the pile of mushy tea leaves so he could see what Eventide was seeing. To him it just looked like a chaotic blend of intercrossed, soggy Laub. A mess, more than anything else, especially now that it had been dumped onto the saucer. But the concentration on his human’s face seemed to indicate otherwise. Gilbert rolled his eyes and sat back, arms crossed over his chest. Eventide must be doing some kind of magic on the leaves. Gilbert wasn’t sure sometimes how he felt about magic. On the one hand, some of it was incredibly powerful and useful to him. On the other, there were certain aspects all humans seemed to put too much faith in like deities and star constellations, that he thought was absolute hogwash. This seemed like one of them.
“Well?!” He demanded after a moment, patience thinning. “You can study the trash later; my time is worth more than a few soggy leaves!”
The corners of Matty’s lips turned downward as he read the leaves. By the delicate handle of the teacup—representative of the querent, in this case, Prusseneit—was a faint door and eye. The door was a symbol of a new opportunity, a crossing of thresholds; the eye, of something that could not be undone. That was foreboding.
He ignored the impatient energy wafting off the stewing vampire, who peered into the cup as if he had any idea what he was looking at. The rim of the cup represented the immediate present, and here it was that Matty found a heart, encircled by the thickest chain he’d ever seen, and was that… an arrow? Love or attraction, an unbreakable link, and forward movement. An attachment formed through fate rather than choice was already in motion. Also, not great.
Matty was hesitant to continue, but he was a stickler for thorough readings and incredibly nosy, so he carried on. The cluster of leaves clinging to the side of the cup were for the near future, in which he identifies a snake within a ring, a triangle, and a raven. The snake within the ring was nearly literal—danger or a hidden enemy (perhaps not so hidden in this instance); the triangle an unpredictable force; the raven representative of bad news. Often, this meant a disaster in one’s personal life, though he’d also seen it as a prediction of death.
All together, he took this to mean that the connection between them would be one of both passion and peril, with an unforeseen outcome influenced by another force… with a forewarning of loss. Delightful.
It was at this point the vampire’s patience snapped. Matty cast an offended glare across the table. "It is not trash, he chided before returning to his reading.
The bottom of the cup was the last to be read. An anchor, upturned, a cross, and a spider’s web. An anchor meant a loss of stability, of safety; the cross symbolized a sacrifice; and the spider web an entanglement of fate. Two fates spun together by sacrifice, with no safety insight.
Matty sighed heavily and pushed the cup across the table, politely returning it to the vampire. The tea leaves had spoken. And now, so must he. "I’ll send your invasive reports via owl. Am I free to leave now, Mr. Prusseneit or do you need to know my shoe size as well?”
Perhaps calling it trash hadn’t been the most convincing way to get Eventide to agree to his demands. Gilbert didn’t much care, but the offended look that was cast in his direction made it abundantly clear he ought to keep his opinions to himself. He raised his chin defiantly, not at all contrite, but he didn’t comment further.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, (and Gil would know) Eventide agreed. Outright. With no more stipulations or complaints. Blue-green eyes narrowed in suspicion but Gilbert felt a strange pull to deny him leave. Like something in his chest was aching at the thought of being separated. It was so sentimental and unwarranted that he immediately did the opposite. “Ja,” Gil heard himself bark with no further inquiry. “You may go.”
And with that, he made every effort to appear disaffected as he stood, straightening his waistcoat. He said nothing more as he strode in the direction of the door, determined to walk Eventide out, even as his skin crawled unfamiliarly. He didn’t even know this man and already he was reacting almost biologically; there was definitely something strange afoot here. The sooner he discovered what it was, the better. And, Gilbert thought to himself indulgently, perhaps it was for the best that they would remain separate for the time being. He’d managed to wrangle his impulse to kill Eventide at the cost of this ridiculous pinching feeling in his chest. Gil could not imagine what frequent interaction would do to him and he was not willing to risk finding out.
The moment Prusseneit had acquiesced, Matty stood swiftly from the chair and strode toward the door. Fortunately, the vampire seemed to remember a modicum of his etiquette—he’d also stood and led the seer to the exit. It was a relief that; he wouldn’t have to walk directly past the predator until he was crossing the threshold back to safety. Prusseneit had switched moods from hot to cold to aggressive to amused so unpredictably that he didn’t want to risk turning his back. As if by some miracle—or fate, more likely—he was allowed to leave without incident.
”I’ll be in touch,” was all he said, as if they’d merely had a casual business meeting and he’d promised to follow up. Because what else was he supposed to do? Their fates were intertwined, and he knew better than to fight it. His entire life he’d been raised to embrace what fate had decided. So whether he liked it or not, he would be reporting his comings and goings to the oddly possessive vampire for the foreseeable future.
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