16th March, 1892 — By A Hogsmeade Bulletin Board, High Street
Ozymandias had been obnoxious about this; Christabel, at least, had been similarly incensed – although no amount of fuming within their household had quite sated Phyri’s rage or fixed the looming problem here.
Blacking out distressing details was one thing, but the forcible magic behind it, and the very wording! ‘Feminine’ sensitivity, they had decided, as if Porphyria was not simultaneously a woman and the least delicate person she knew. She had seen society’s general squeamishness before – she had once conjured a carcass in a duel, after all, and been certain the male judge had been about to faint – but that anyone could presume to decide which facts were appropriate or inappropriate for her was... well, there were any number of expletive remarks with which she might have ended that sentence, but now that would not have been ladylike of her, would it?
Phyri had ideas for some emphatic letters – and even the seed of a poem or two, or perhaps a whole Swiftian satire? – swirling round her mind, but with her sister’s help, she had turned her mind to a different scheme first. By the next morning, she already had heaps of copies of the advertisement printed, and was currently pasting them up on as many flat surfaces of Hogsmeade as possible.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Porphyria declared, sensing an onlooker hovering (awkwardly?) nearby as she smoothed a corner of the poster down with an extra sticking charm. That done, she thrust a small pile of posters into their hand before they could say a word one way or another. “These all need putting up.”
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Blacking out distressing details was one thing, but the forcible magic behind it, and the very wording! ‘Feminine’ sensitivity, they had decided, as if Porphyria was not simultaneously a woman and the least delicate person she knew. She had seen society’s general squeamishness before – she had once conjured a carcass in a duel, after all, and been certain the male judge had been about to faint – but that anyone could presume to decide which facts were appropriate or inappropriate for her was... well, there were any number of expletive remarks with which she might have ended that sentence, but now that would not have been ladylike of her, would it?
Phyri had ideas for some emphatic letters – and even the seed of a poem or two, or perhaps a whole Swiftian satire? – swirling round her mind, but with her sister’s help, she had turned her mind to a different scheme first. By the next morning, she already had heaps of copies of the advertisement printed, and was currently pasting them up on as many flat surfaces of Hogsmeade as possible.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Porphyria declared, sensing an onlooker hovering (awkwardly?) nearby as she smoothed a corner of the poster down with an extra sticking charm. That done, she thrust a small pile of posters into their hand before they could say a word one way or another. “These all need putting up.”
a sublime set by Lady! <3