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’d preferred breaking up physical fights as opposed to settling squabbles between two customers who’d happened upon the inn. Balancing the books did nothing good for her mood either. With the staff all set for the night, Hestia was free — finally. And she knew the exact place she was going to head to.
It didn’t take long to get ready, at least not with the aid of magic. Doffing all the layers of her outfit down to her corset and drawers, she traded her skirts for trousers, and her shirt for a shorter version of a chemise that she tucked into the belted waist. She kept her hair up in its bun and eventually made her way downstairs to the basement to wait. A few taps of her wand saw the pitcher and glasses in the corner fill themselves, and she readied the room by arranging the cushions. She was gathering everything they might need (salves, bandages, the last of her stores of pepper up potion) when the door to the basement opened and she turned around.
Declan was generally against fighting women, but Hestia did not really count. Also, he was pretty sure that if he ever expressed this thought verbally, Tess would be upset with him, so it was something he was trying to work through. He flooed from his and Kenna's place to the Iron Fang Inn, and padded down the stairs. He cracked the door open and stepped in.
"Evening," Declan said. "Try not to hit me too hard — I've got a fight tomorrow. You should come."
“Evening!” Hestia chirped before turning back around to wrap some cloth around her hand. She enjoyed sparring with Declan, though she would go to the grave before she admitted that to Beck. He’d likely do something ridiculous like challenge Buchanan to a duel, and Hestia liked both her sparring partner and…whatever Beck was to her - in one piece. There was no need to try and figure out a way to send both of them home in pin boxes.
She sighed, tossing the roll of cloth to Declan. “Pity, you know how much I like to go for the face.” She gave a soft huff, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “I’d be happy to attend; what time and where and whose demise should I put a bet against?” Hestia grinned cheekily.
Declan wrapped his hands with the roll of cloth in the practiced motions of someone who had been doing this for a long time. "James at six o'clock," he answered. James was a Welshman in London that Declan had fought a few times; sometimes Deck won, sometimes James won. They split the ticket profits fairly.
Done wrapping his hands, he set the roll down on Hestia's side table. "Think we'll be behind the Jinxed Jackrabbit," Declan said, with a sheepish grin — all inns were probably some level of competition for Iron Fang.
“Oh, James!” Hestia made a contemplative face. James was a fair fight with Declan, she supposed. The last few times she’d attended they’d both won. “I think I can make six, I’ll have to get someone to watch the front desk for me.”
Shoving a sack of grain across the floor to clear more space, Hestia sighed. “Really, you had to go for the Jinxed Jackrabbit?” She returned to the center of the room, flicking a strand of hair out of her face. “You’re gonna have to pay for that one, you know. Or I could bring flyers advertising discounted meals for all those who bring in a signed flyer from you.” She smirked before squaring up. “Kill two birds with one stone.”
If Hestia was going to watch him fight James, then Declan really couldn't fuck the fight up tomorrow, or she would make fun of him for weeks. (Not that he'd been planning on doing badly.)
He laughed and mirrored her pose, shifting into a boxer's stance. "You underestimate how many flyers I can sign," he said. He punched past her right ear, not aiming to hit her as much as he was aiming to get her to move and opening the sparring.
Hestia snorted at his response before focusing in on the task at hand. As he punched past her ear, she dodged - perhaps predictably, then pivoted and feinted before darting into an open space she saw.
He knew her too well to fall for her first feints, but Hestia did get into the open space — Declan took two quick steps back and swung wide again, aiming at her ribs.
Hestia's punch connected, solidly, with Declan's abdomen. He huffed out a breath. "Alright," he said, and swung wide with one arm — he had to try to use size to his advantage, because she was significantly faster than he was.
“Oh, come now Deck,” Hestia taunted as she bounced on her toes to and fro; there was no time to laugh through it. “Gotta be faster than that!” She had to focus, else she’d be leaving here with a black eye. As his fist swung at her, she ducked successfully before flashing forwards again.
She was keeping him in close; this was a problem for Declan, because he had a larger reach than she did. He took several steps backwards before aiming another punch for her side.
Hestia shouldn’t have taunted him, but she couldn’t resist. She followed him, a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on her face; caught in a gloating saunter towards him, she failed to block his blow to her ribs. “Fuck,” She blew out a breath as she absorbed the punch. Took a breath or two to pace her self and then hovered, this time aiming to draw him into her space.
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