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
November 16, 1895 - a non-descript Wellingtonshire ball
Olixander was used to being sneered at. One did not go through life with his inclinations and penchant for making them obvious without attracting a disgusted look or two. But he’d never done anything to get himself in trouble about it, at least not the kind of trouble he should. Maybe it was because he was a pureblood, an elitist, and people were more scared of his family than they were concerned with curbing him. Whatever the matter, he knew better than to push it. And that evening with the Jeongs he’d wanted to. Something had tingled curiously at the base of his spine in earnest desire for the first time… probably ever. (Olixander didn’t make a habit of caring or wanting much. It wasn’t worth the disappointment.)
As he stood out on the balcony of this ridiculous extravagant ball, he considered again the short interaction. The little one - Seojin - had been flustered and then curt. He didn’t know if the fluster was from reasonable understanding or if he’d just been caught off guard. The other one— the tall, handsome, scowling one whose name Oli did not remember— had definitely seemed to understand. Or at least he thought so under the influence of way too many vices. Olixander was itching to come across them again somewhere else, somewhere tame where the expectation of society would force them into a real conversation if he persisted. It was the only reason he'd acquiesced to attend so many events of his mother's choosing since October. One of these days he was bound to run into them again.
Rolling his shoulders back and flicking aside the butt of the elegant little roll he’d been smoking, Olixander made to go back inside. His eyes were rimmed red and the night was young. If nothing else, he was sure he could find some mischief to get up to before slinking home at dawn. These things were incredibly boring; one had to make one's own fun. As luck would have it, one of the two faces he'd been searching for appeared just as he made to depart. Oli pivoted on his heel. Rather than head back through the double glass french doors that had led him here, he dug in his coat pocket for another smoke. He'd see if Jeong approached him. If not, he'd sidle up and ask for a light. The more casually, the better.
The violent and extremely illegal idea that had pierced Ahn-Bo’s mind the evening of the Monster Melee had only consumed more and more of his thoughts since. The devil incarnate had made it no secret that he was deliberately and cruelly punishing Jin-a and him by keeping them apart since that fateful evening when they’d made their true feelings known. Not that the old man would have known about that part of it.
They had spent the night out together, and since then, had been incredibly touchy and more obvious than usual. Of course he would have caught on. There was no part of Ahn-Bo that could be subtle at any point in time, and Jin-a lost most of his logic whenever it came to the werewolf. The only reason Yeom hadn’t just killed Ahn-Bo and been done with it (because they all knew he was more than capable of it) was because it would severely weaken his hold over Jin-a. Not that the wolf knew the full extent of it, but he had a guess based on his own feelings about the matter.
He’d spent nearly a week away from his love, then returned for a social dinner so Yeom could rub elbows (or so he thought; really it was for Tae-su-ah and Carrow, which had been a delightful discovery), was off again for another five days, home for four (three for the full moon and one for recovery—as if Yeom thought he was being kind), and then again for the longest stretch yet. Nine days. He’d just returned home yesterday, and now here he was, at this stupid ball, having to pretend as if he didn’t want to tug Seojin-a into a closet somewhere. Or murder Yeom outright.
The more Ahn-Bo saw him, the more he realized that as he and his brothers had grown into adulthood, Yeom’s own youth and strength had begun to fade. There was a good chance that if Yeom’s magic was incapacitated, Ahn-Bo could overpower him easily. It was likely why the old man didn’t get physically violent with the werewolf like he did with the others—and why he waited until he knew Ahn-Bo was away before he did any of the inflicting.
Each time he saw a bruise or a brother favoring his ribs, he was filled with fury. His self-control was dangling by a single thread—the one that said if he failed in his retaliation, it would be his brothers who paid. Especially Jin, whom Yeom had the most control over. If Ahn-Bo were present when such atrocities were happening, that thread would completely snap, consequences forgotten in his rage.
Thus far, the old predator had been meticulous in his timing. But one day he wouldn’t be, and when that happened, the werewolf would be ready.
They had been here for what felt like hours. He’d done the dancing and socializing as Yeom required, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch Jin-a doing the same. Each time a debutante flashed a pretty smile or fluttered her lashes (or her fan, because apparently that was a flirtatious thing here), Ahn-Bo’s jaw clenched. The dancing was the worst of it, particularly the ones that required so much touching. The impulse to barge in and shove the girls away from his Jin-a increased to the point that he had to step outside. Maybe if he couldn’t see it happening, it was easier to pretend that it wasn’t.
The closer his steps took him to the nearest balcony, the stronger the scent of smoke became. And not just any smoke, but the kind of smoke that belonged to scandalous parties and general debauchery. How curious. Once he crossed the threshold, he immediately recognized Blackwood. Clearly the source of the smoke, although it didn’t appear that the one he held in his hand was currently lit. It must have been his second.
Ahn-Bo was sorely tempted to see if he had any extra with him. It would take the edge off, and he wouldn’t have to be hiding out here… but Jin-a hated Blackwood. He was torn between desperation and loyalty. So he settled for the middle ground. He settled in at the opposite side of the balcony, leaning against the railing on his forearms. It made the shoulders of his coat pinch, but that was the least of his problems. Deliberately looking out over the house’s gardens rather than at the other man.
Damn. Jeong had come out, sure, but he was pointedly ignoring Oli. How rude. (Because there was no way he hadn’t noticed; the balcony of the town house was too small for that and Jeong not so stupid.) Olixander supposed it was time for Plan B.
He turned and reached as if to tap Jeong on the shoulder but he paused as he noted two things in quick succession: the first, how tightly stretched over his broad shoulders the man’s coat was (noted with full appreciation); the second, there was a look on Jeong’s face that looked stormy and uninterested in being heckled. It was familiar, almost, in a way Oli couldn’t place. (And rather disliked that he recognized.) Instead of touching Jeong, he cleared his throat.
“Oyé— you wouldn’t happen to have a light, would you?” he asked, bridging the gap between them with a few steps and holding out his rolled smoke in a gesture of goodwill. Maybe it was stupid, or maybe it was just what Jeong needed to defrost, but Oli offered him a less sleazy smile than he was wont to— almost friendly, but not quite. “I promise to share,” he added.
Ahn-Bo Jeong & muse song
* literally translates to "listen here" but meant to indicate "hey, you" here
Ahn-Bo wasn’t at all surprised that Blackwood approached him despite his very obvious cut. They had only met briefly at the Velvet Veil, but it had been enough that he felt he had some measure on the man. Particularly that interested spark in his eye after giving the werewolf an appraising look from head to toe. It wasn’t as if they were far apart to begin with, but they were definitely side by side now.
There would be no ignoring him now. Besides, he was probably some important wealthy son of an old pureblood family that Yeom wanted to rub elbows with. Ahn-Bo turned his head toward Blackwood. At least he was offering to share whatever party favor he’d brought. “Sure,” he said simply, and then presented a small flame in the palm of his hand. It was rather odd how much the British relied on their wands over the wandless magic the Eastern side of the world favored.
Olixander studied the look that finally turned towards him with extreme delicacy. When he was lucid, he was rather good at reading people. It was a talent he’d boasted since he was a teenager; the problem was the lucidity. Tonight he wasn’t enthralled in the arms of the mist that sometimes stole time from him, but he was slightly buzzy from his first unique concoction. It was a mix of flutterby petals, phoenix ash, and a drop of honeywater. This particular cigarette produced a comforting warmth that bloomed in one’s chest while letting the smoker relive one happy memory in vivid sensory detail for a few minutes. Oli had picked it up on his last trip to Knockturn alongside a few happy pills that made him forget how miserable he was all the time. He had those in his pocket too.
As Jeong lifted his hand, Olixander waited for him to pull out a wand but instead he summoned a small flame in his palm. It was impressive, and his pupils dilated a smidge, even as he tried to keep the look on his face neutral. Mierda, Jeong was talented and handsome. A potent concoction of its own. Dismissing the thought, Oli lit the cigarette on the flame and tipped his head slightly.
They were quiet for a second as Olixander turned his back to the garden and leaned against the balcony. He brought the cigarette to his lips and relished in its effects for a moment. Then, when he was happily relieved of whatever memory that had been that he couldn’t quite place, he passed the cigarette in Jeong’s direction. “Everything alright?” he asked, pointedly looking away as he did so.
Ahn-Bo had assumed after the light, Blackwood would step away. Instead, he had chosen to stay directly next to him. Jin would be very unhappy if he saw them together out here. With that in mind, he shuffled a step sideways. And that was as far as he could go, having hit the end of the balcony. What was the point of having such a small balcony anyway?
The wolf recognized the scent of the cigarette-and knew full well the effects one would experience when smoking it. A quick glance over his shoulder provided him a full view of Jin-a bending over an outstretched hand of yet another debutante. Politely, of course, not an inch closer than he was required. But that didn’t make Ahn-Bo feel any better. He huffed in frustration and turned back to accept the offered cigarette. “Perfect as always,” he heard himself mumble just before he took a long drag.
He passed it back to Blackwood without looking, eyes closed and chin tipped up as he experienced the effect. Of course, his most recent happy memory had been the night at the Velvet Veil. Not all of it, of course, but the very end had just felt so right. Flashes of bare skin, heavy breathing, and “I love you”s… warmth filled his chest, temporarily numbing the thorns that pierced his heart. He exhaled as the effect ended.
Then, he opened his eyes and glanced at Blackwood. “And you? Are you hiding out here? With this?” He flicked his wrist in a lazy gesture toward the cigarette.
⚘
Ahn-Bo speaks in Korean to his family unless otherwise stated in posts.
He has a noticeable accent when speaking in English.
![[Image: d2gEZzQ.png]](https://i.imgur.com/d2gEZzQ.png)