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Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.

Where will you fall?

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Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
What she got was the opposite of what she wanted, also known as the subtitle to her marriage.
all dolled up with you


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I've learned how to forgive; those childish games are behind me
#1
So when day turns to night
And you close your eyes and hope to dream
Remember this:
I hope you die in a fire
I hope you die in a raging inferno of pain


31st January, 1895 — Algernon Rowle’s Residence, Wellingtonshire
In the past year, Philip had avoided these visits as much as he could – he had never agreed to this, so why not let any details of his life or apparent concern for his father be filtered instead through his siblings on their visits? He had not felt any pleasure being in the same room as Algernon Rowle since he had been looking on him in the hospital bed; and this man was far from that dying thing. A cockroach through and through.

But so far Philip had refrained from blowing up all their lives in the way he wanted to – instead he was playing along. And it was better to think of this as some perverse little game, a grand charade to play – a neater parody of Philip Rowle stepping into his shoes.

He had started going so far as to take calming draughts before he came, once his father began asking him when he would be visiting (there was little option implied). He had come after work, swigging the draught on the way. It dulled Philip’s anger just enough to be able to sit in a chair and face him, smoothed his emotions and expressions. Beneath that, he still knew the simmering hatred, but – as if it was underwater or out of reach. Not so different from the Imperius Curse.

“You look well, Father,” Philip said, ever surprised to find that the last word was not tangibly corrosive on his tongue. “How are you getting on?”
Algernon Rowle/Henry Berkwood



#2
Algernon had taken to spending his evenings in his study, which, admittedly, wasn't that different from how he'd spent his time before the stroke. He was stubbornly getting back to normalcy, and would probably continue with as close an approximation to his old life as he could get until it inevitably killed him. Retirement was for the weak. Never mind that Algernon was, literally, retired.

He looked from the account ledger he was perusing to give Philip a brief glance before looking back down again. "Well enough," he said. "You've been keeping busy I assume?" Keeping tabs on his children was a delicate balance. Algernon wasn't worried of course--he'd gone to great lengths to not need to worry. But Algernon hadn't particularly liked his children as people before, it wasn't like the Imperius Curse had improved things. It had just made enduring easier.



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