December 31st, 1894 — London, Time Turner NYE Ball

It had, she supposed, been a bit much to hope that the ball would feature actual time-turners. The magic of them had always struck Iphigenia Adebayo as intriguing, and while the lock and key under wich the Ministry of Magic kept them enhanced their mystique, it also meant they were unlikely to be trotted out as a party novelty. Still, the evening's host had clearly leaned into the theme, and indeed, so had Genia herself. Her outfit had taken its cue from the medieval, or at least a vague interpretation of it; her brother had raised his eyebrows at it as he had helped her into the carriage, but otherwise said nothing. Beneath her headpiece, her hair was braided. In Iphegenia's estimation, she looked damn good, and she was going to be sure others saw her. 

Near the entrance, guests were encouraged to write down their wishes for the year ahead. This, Genia felt, was altogether foolish, but she nonetheless leaned over to scribe the word SUCCESS onto the parchment, allowing her to linger near the handsome Mr. Hart who was doing likewise (the end result: his name upon her dance card for later). And success was what she wished for the year ahead: success socially. Iphegenia Adebayo would marry in 1895, mark her words, and determination had never been something the debuatante lacked. The witch felt wholly confident about the year ahead.

From here, Genia moved quite decidedly past the diviner's booth (she had never put much store in divination) and towards the dance floor, the closest thing a young lady of her sort had to a quidditch pitch or duelist's stage.

Almost lazily, she took out her fan, fanning herself only two or three times before letting it fall quite pointedly to the floor at her feet. It was a cliche action, to be sure, but it was cliche because it worked. Rather like fishing, Genia thought to herself wryly, though far less smelly.

Open to unmarried/widowed UC gentleman, 24+, good reputation!

  

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— mj makes pretty things ✨ —

So far as Hauke was concerned, he had come to England to teach first and to court last. A necessary promise to his kin to buy just a little more time before the inevitable knot was tied, and thus to buy a much-needed to chance to find some solution to his predicament. Out from under Uncle Lothar's scrutiny he had neglected that second goal. Attended a handful of balls in August where he had, admittedly, enjoyed himself but offered the ladies little in the way of a chance, then abandoned such endeavors in favor of lesson plans and grading papers. The winter interterm removed all such responsibilities. With neither teaching nor research to occupy his time, he had conceded that a New Years Eve ball might not just be well-advised, but necessary.

He quickly regretted choosing any event so elaborately themed. What little finery he ever kept he abandoned behind him in Germany, and so he'd had no choice but to acquire whatever costume he could put coin to quickly. He landed upon a black ensemble, caped and hatted and gloved-- a dramatization of some fifteenth-century rogue which looked, Hauke had to admit, not altogether terrible on him. Not his style, but good enough to be getting on with.

Hauke arrived alone and just barely on time, amidst a veritable flurry of greetings and introductions. One whirlwind later he found himself wandering the edge of the dancefloor with no plan. Of course he knew the dances. He knew, on paper, the steps a man in his position should take. Knowing could not make it natural to him. To strike up a conversation with a doubled purpose made Hauke's skin crawl, and--

A flutter of motion in the corner of Hauke's eye pulled him from his rambling thoughts, back to the warm gilded light of this enchanted ballroom. He turned, startled, and his eyes landed on the fan at a young lady's feet. There was little thought involved as Hauke stooped to retrieve it, offering it back to her with his usual laid back smile.

"Miss," Hauke remained at a half-bow-- the most comfortable option with a capelet draped over that shoulder-- with her fan balanced gently in his palm.

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