May 13th, 1893 - Annual Potts Flower Show
Fortitude Greengrass

The pathways through the English garden were wound threw with any number of beautiful plants. But one corner of the prettily manicured corner of the flower show had attracted less than pleasant creatures. Garden gnomes.

The grubby little creatures scurried across the pathway, chattering to one another, their large heads held high as they engaged in what seemed to be a game of tag, or perhaps a relay of some sort. You didn't have much time to inspect them before you stumbled on an errant one, tripping over it and losing your balance.

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Known side-effects include: chronic ridiculousness, immense satisfaction, itching, uncontrollable laughter, burning, deep regret, despair, shock, horror, incidental dismemberment, joy, and death. Use at your own risk!

As he fell, Ford recalled the trials of Gulliver during his interactions with the Lilliputians. He had nothing against garden gnomes in general; Tycho had a proper infestation of them in his front yard that he had never shown any inclination to do anything about, and while they apparently menaced their fair share of unsuspecting visitors they had always left his ankles alone. The gnomes at Tycho's house generally kept to themselves, though. They lurked by the garden wall and dozed under the canopy of flower bushes. These ones were bold, out in the middle of a path, and there were quite a few of them — and they had reason to dislike him, since he'd just tripped over one of their number.

"Sorry, sorry," Ford said quickly, as he scrambled away. He was polite for the moment, but also poised to kick the gnome in question if it lurched for him — he would not sacrifice a pair of socks, or worse, the hem of his trousers, for the sake of being kind to a creature. Fortunately the gnome seemed more inclined to climb to its feet and dash away than to bite him. Unfortunately, someone had just rounded the corner and the gnome was now barrelling straight for their feet. "Oh — watch out," he called, preliminarily flinching.

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Set by Lady!

This whole event was quite the to do! The Potts family seemed to have gone way above and beyond this year and Tabitha was delighted. She had heard there was a whole section devoted to healing herbs and magical plants for potions but she had yet to find it. Still, she was more than happy to wander with her aunt in tow. Her father's sister was visiting and thought that a good opportunity for Tabitha to get out of the house and "be social." Tabs wasn't going to argue for an event like this. If she was getting dragged out, this would be her preference.

So far she had made it through some exciting sections (the lily pads!) and found herself now in a more traditional garden typical of the region. It was still absolutely breathtaking, the sheer amount of different colors and flowers all carefully coordinated within the hedges.

She was admiring the hydrangea bushes when she heard someone shout. Tabi looked just in time to see a garden gnome scurry right under her skirts! "Oh, oh my!" She screeched, lifting up the hem of her lilac-colored dress to see if she could see it, petticoats visible as she sort of danced around trying to see if it was still under there.

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Fortitude Greengrass

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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absolute beauty by MJ

The woman was beautiful. It was the first thing he noticed, which was unusual; despite his heart being thoroughly engaged elsewhere, Ford did notice that people were attractive, but not usually right away. Beauty came across most clearly to him in gestures and expressions, in the ways that people carried themselves and wore their features throughout an interaction, so it was rare for him to be struck by someone's appearance, but there was no other way to describe the sudden, forceful observation of her beauty in this case. And if she was beautiful while shrieking and trying to dodge a garden gnome, that must have meant she was beautiful in every situation — this was not one that would have complemented most people.

She'd lifted up the hem of her dress. His breath caught. He was inexplicably deeply invested in the question of whether or not he'd be able to see her ankles. Under normal circumstances he would have diverted his gaze, while doing whatever he could to help, but — he didn't even know what was different about this situation, honestly. He just knew the first thing that occurred to him wasn't to look away or consider her distress, it was to stare — to take any opportunity afforded to drink her in. He didn't even know her name.

"He-here, let me help," he managed as he scrambled to his knees. He didn't know how he intended to help; he'd reached for his wand but his brain was too busy wondering what the hell is wrong with you to think of useful spells. The gnome was in her petticoats, so it wasn't as though he could jinx it without risking some damage to either her dress or her legs. For one horrifically embarrassing moment he held his wand in one hand and did nothing except look a little panicked, like a deer in the headlights. Then, at a loss for any better options, he cast "Accio gnome."

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Tabitha Chevalier

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   Tabitha Chevalier

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Set by Lady!

Tabitha was far too concerned with the gnome in her skirts to worry about whatever it was that anybody around her was doing. She could feel it rummaging around in the layers of her petticoats, no doubt getting stuck and everything all dirty, but she couldn't tell exactly where it was exactly, only that she could feel it brush against her legs as it thrashed about.

Surely her aunt would help! Tabs looked around frantically, heard the spell cast by an unfamiliar voice, but it was all drowned out by the sound of tearing fabric. As the gnome was so entangled in her petticoats, as the summoning charm worked on the potato of a creature, it dug its claws in, scrambling and making holes and as it was ripped away from the predicament, it took with it any shred of dignity Tabitha would have for a long time.

It went flying, a piece of fabric gripped tight in its meaty little fists as Tabitha realized there was now a giant hole in her skirts, fabric scattered on the ground in shreds and a long portion of her leg exposed. She shrieked again, this time in mortification, trying to pull what was left of her skirt together to cover up.

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Fortitude Greengrass

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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absolute beauty by MJ

The sound of ripping fabric made his heart sink. He'd tried to help and he'd inadvertently made it all worse. His spell might not have been the direct cause of the skirt tearing, but the gnome probably wouldn't have ripped it to shreds quite so quickly had it not been for Ford's magical intervention. He was being an absolute idiot about this, and he didn't know why his wits seemed to have fled him. She was beautiful, yes, but plenty of women were beautiful, and they did not generally leave him feeling this utterly useless. What was —

Oh Merlin, he could see her entire leg. As soon as he caught sight of it his brain went blank, unable to hold on to anything else except holy fuck that's her entire leg, and then — the garden gnome flying through the air collided with his chest. It was entirely inexcusable to be caught off guard by something he had literally just summoned, but caught off guard he was; he fell backwards, on the ground again, this time with an irritated and confused garden gnome crouched on his chest and a stretch of petticoat fabric thrown inelegantly over his face.

The woman was shrieking. The gnome was chittering angrily. By now, he assumed they were attracting attention from other attendees of the garden party. Ford's face was red as a tomato, beneath the shroud of her torn petticoat. He swatted at where he supposed the gnome to be, trying to knock it off and clear his face of fabric.

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Tabitha Chevalier

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   Tabitha Chevalier

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Set by Lady!

He had been drawn by the shrieking to the scene of public spectacle as a vulture to carrion. Public humiliation nearly always warranted memorialising in a song.

Except – this was not the pair he had expected to see, with or without the horde of ankle-height miscreants around them. Mercy: Ford and the latest love of his death together... but did it have to be like this?

“Hang thee, Greengrass, get up, man,” Barnaby chided from a foot away, swimming imperviously into this disaster and sparing no sympathy for Ford’s state of being, because – more importantly – his best friend was making a fool of himself in front of Miss Chevalier. If he wasn’t careful, this would dampen Barnaby’s chances with her.

He cast a lofty look at the disastrous landscape around him, and a plaintive one at Miss Chevalier, who deserved none of this. “Shield her,” Barnaby demanded. “People are gawking.”

If he, helpless otherwise than to verbally direct, was also ogling her (shapely) legs, that was different. The temptation was simply too much for a dead man.

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   Tabitha Chevalier

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Tabi realized a few moments too late that she was making a scene and therefore drawing more eyes in her direction and then of course Mr. Wye has materialized, because of course, why wouldn't he and Tabitha was near tears.

Without the gnome in her skirts, but the remnants in tatters, she hastily tried to pull together the remaining fabric to cover her legs, but it was all so torn she was struggling to find enough purchase. If she'd been thinking clearly and not in a haze of mortification, she may have thought to grab her wand and mend it magically, but even then she wasn't even sure what she should do.

And so, her first instinct was to flee.

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Fortitude Greengrass Barnaby Wye

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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absolute beauty by MJ

Ford recognized the voice (but even if he hadn't, how many people did he know who might start a sentence with hang thee?) and was doubly mortified that one of the onlookers he had expected was someone he knew. Barnaby would bring this up at least four or five times over the next month, probably — if Ford was particularly unlucky, there might even be a song composed about it. Merlin.

Get up, right, why hadn't I thought of that? You're a real life saver, Barnaby Wye, he thought savagely, but couldn't voice it as the gnome had just put its tiny little foot down hard on the middle of his windpipe. Ford coughed and swung his fist at the gnome again, this time connecting solidly. The creature was knocked down, and where it went next Ford neither knew nor cared. He scrambled to his knees, still sputtering to try and recover from the kick to his throat. Barnaby had said shield her, and that seemed sensible enough to Ford. The situation certainly needed to be de-escalated, and he didn't have any better ideas. He'd been functionally blind for the last few seconds, and even before that he hadn't been in the right state of mind to do anything productive; better just follow directions until he had a handle on himself again.

So he climbed back to his feet and lurched after her. His first few steps were unsteady, but then he found his footing and started jogging to try and catch up with her. The scrap of her petticoat was still half-wrapped around one of his arms, but since it wasn't slowing him down he didn't bother stopping to untangle it yet. He would have called out that he intended to help her, but he hadn't quite got his vocal chords back yet, and — what was he actually planning to do to help, anyway? He hadn't figured it out yet. He coughed again and picked up the pace.

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Barnaby Wye Tabitha Chevalier

  

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Set by Lady!

Tabitha had shot off toward one of the hedge paths, but it turned out not to be the one that she'd come from, nor the one near her aunt and as she was blinded by panic and the threatening tears, Tabs tucked herself in an isolated corner and tried to calm herself down. This was ridiculous of course, but she could just hear the gossip now, [i]Did you hear about that veela trying to seduce men in the middle of the flower show? Her whole leg was out![/b] And the frustration of trying to keep her professional reputation afloat was what flustered her the most. She could feel the more temperamental nature of the veela half rising up, the indignation, the anger, but she forced herself to close her eyes and focus.

After a few deep breaths, Tabi was able to quell her more... unpredictable side and assess the situation with her healer's eye, but even with that, she had no idea how to mend it and she was still too worked up to apparate home. Plus she didn't want to worry her aunt. The tattered hole in her dress was much longer and wider than she'd originally anticipated. That stupid gnome had really been tangled up in there and done a number on her skirts on its way out. Not that she blamed anyone, she didn't even see the gentleman who she supposed was trying to help, but just the addition of her new ghost acquaintance (could it be called that?) didn't help. Oh this was horrible!

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Fortitude Greengrass Barnaby Wye

  

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absolute beauty by MJ

He had expected Greengrass to be generally terrible with the fairer sex, but Barnaby had to admit this was even more dire than he’d conceived. (Not that he wanted Greengrass to pursue Miss Chevalier, of course – or at least not romantically, just... literally – but in general, he hadn’t expected such ungainly incompetence from someone usually so diligent.)

So Barnaby felt it was his duty to assist here, because clearly his presence was making things better and not worse. As Ford tore after her, her torn skirts still bound around his arm, Barnaby unsheathed the rapier from his midriff and jabbed it at a few of the gnomes behind them to stop them from grabbing at Greengrass’ heels. Sure, not so effective as a weapon – but the plunge of ice-cold could freeze any being in its tracks, and even ghost-swords were flashy enough for a little public swashbuckling.

Not that showing off ought to be the priority right now, perhaps... Barnaby remembered the fleeing damsel and drifted a little higher to seek her out amidst the lingering crowds. “Over there –” he instructed, ushering Greengrass on with a nod at that flash of pearly-light hair and, unable to fathom that his presence might be unwanted, Barnaby swanned over to where she was cowering, too. He wasn’t certain what the problem was, anyway – she looked just as well without her skirts.

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Ford had kept her in sight well enough to know which hedge path to turn down to follow her without Barnaby's direction, but nodded at the confirmation as he rounded the corner on her. He noticed three things all at once. The first — that she was very beautiful — was hardly a revelation, but it was noteworthy taken with the second observation: that she was clearly distraught. She'd been taking deep breaths when he skidded to a halt, apparently trying to keep her emotions in check. He felt a pang of sympathy for her, stuck in a predicament that may not have been entirely his fault but which he'd certainly only made worse so far.

The third thing: there wasn't much space here. The place she'd shied away to might be best described as an alcove, and wasn't entirely enough space for three people even in the best of circumstances — and with her skirt in shreds these were hardly the best of circumstances. What would someone think, if they walked by and spotted them? Barnaby's presence might have been helpful here to some degree. If there had been something scandalous going on, the addition of a ghost certainly would have ruined the mood. Probably no one who saw all three of them tucked away here would have assumed Ford was in the midst of ravaging the poor woman, no matter what the state of her dress.

"H-hey," he said, still panting slightly from having run to follow her. "I can — help," he continued, though he still hadn't determined how. He glanced at his shoulder and pulled the petticoat fabric off with a frown.

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Barnaby Wye Tabitha Chevalier

  

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Set by Lady!

Tabitha hadn't expected anyone to follow. She had thought she would able to take a moment, figure out how to close up her dress and find her aunt to excuse herself home. She did not expect Mr. Wye and his apparent friend to come find her in the corner she had secluded herself in to calm down and so as her head whipped up to look at the gentleman before her, she sucked in a breath and stepped back against the hedge.

She was not this person, she did not usually lose her head in situations like this and so color flooded her otherwise pale cheeks, embarrassment clear across her features. The hysterical reaction of baring her leg in public probably would haunt her somehow, she just knew it, but  there wasn't much to be done about it now. Now it was time to do damage control. "Ah—" Tabi hesitated. This was not a good place to be alone with a man and a ghost.

"I appreciate your kindness," she was still trying to puzzle out how to fix the dress, but she thought it would be better done on her own. "But I'll think of something." Maybe if he gave her back the tattered scraps of her skirt, she could transfigure something. It was hardly the gentleman's fault after all, he had been trying to help, but he had no responsibility here. Mr. Wye would hardly leave, she knew that. He'd become a strange fixture in her life as of late and while she couldn't quite explain why, she did find him amusing.

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Fortitude Greengrass Barnaby Wye

  

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absolute beauty by MJ

He had yet to decide which of them was the more red-faced; Barnaby, of course, was as pallid as ever. Miss Chevalier’s cheeks looked perfectly lovely, cherry-red; Ford looked more like the George Robins variety, a blotchy red that looked like he was about to burst out in spattergroit pustules. Poor boy.

“‘Tis just a leg,” Barnaby offered affably, in a thoughtless but heartfelt attempt to cheer her up. He felt that was perhaps not the custom – but he bared his legs every day, with short breeches and tight hose that gave the human body some proper form.

“And pray let him help,” he insisted, throwing Ford primly under the carriage-wheels. “The dress was his fault.”

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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'Just a leg' was underselling it quite fantastically, but even flustered as he was Ford was not so far removed from reason as to say anything to that effect. He had just about managed to keep himself from staring, but it was a hard-fought battle (this was another area in which Barnaby Wye was unexpectedly helpful; it was easier for Ford to pull his eyes away from the beautiful scantily-clad woman when he had an alternative, namely glowering at Barnaby in response to the comment that this was all his fault).

"I really can help," Ford protested. Holding the petticoat fabric in his hand had made him realize exactly how he might be useful in this situation, so now he had some actual ideas to back the offer up rather than just vague intentions. "Is the dress the worst of it? The gnome didn't bite you, or anything?"

If she was bleeding somewhere he didn't know that he'd be any help with that, but if all that was the matter was torn fabric and bruised pride he could at least mend the former. He had a better mending charm than any middle class man had a right to have, honestly — avoiding the tailor (and therefore the tailor bill) whenever possible had that effect. "I can get it stitched back together with a spell and you'd hardly tell it was torn at all. But, ah — you'd have to tell me which layer is which," he admitted, flushing again. He knew the layers of women's clothes from an academic perspective — he had sisters and he paid the bill for the modiste, so it wasn't as though what went on beneath a woman's overskirt was a complete mystery to him. On the other hand, his practical experience separating one layer from another was... nonexistent, and she was highly distracting.

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Tabitha Chevalier Barnaby Wye

  

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Set by Lady!

Tabi shot a look of pure befuddlement at Mr. Wye, helplessness and frustration clear on her features. Just a leg! It was the end of the reputation she had worked so hard to uphold. She wavered still, as her resolve crumbled. Mr. Wye's insistence that the other gentleman help and the assurance that he knew how to fix it, lulled Tabi into a sense of resignation. She certainly didn't know how to do it. She could embroider beautifully and stitch up a person, but she did not know how to sew clothing.

"Alright," she conceded gently, hands still gripped tightly on the shreds of her skirt, holding them as closed as she could possibly go. "I think just the top two layers will suffice." The overskirt and the underskirt would cover her enough to escape with some dignity in tact. No doubt she could take the petticoats to the seamstress or if she was desperate, dig into her savings to buy new ones; there would be no asking her father and stepmother for money to fix this.

Sifting through the layers of tattered fabric in her hands, Tabs located the underskirt first and fumbled to keep the rest from falling away again. She lost her grip for a moment and her stockings were visible once more and this time another surprise— they were stained with blood Tabi hadn't even noticed. She gasped in shock and annoyance. She hadn't felt any injury, but as she turned away for a moment, there it was, one long set of scratches from what must have been the gnome. Apparently the sting of a ruined reputation was worse than the sting of an actual wound. "Just perfect." She nearly whined aloud, but managed to keep it under her breath. Hopefully she could get the blood out, or she would need new stockings on top of a new petticoat!

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Fortitude Greengrass Barnaby Wye

  

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absolute beauty by MJ