12 June, '95 — Gladrags Wizardwear

So the cuffs couldn't reach her wrists any longer, Charley rolled them up anyway. And trousers legs not reaching her shoes just meant they wouldn't get so muddy. The real fight came down to shirts not buttoning on top, or waists pulling tight, making her ready for war if it came down to it. So maybe the professor did have the better idea, but not if the first outfit she spied was it.

"Oh, I en't wearin' that!" Charley pointed right at the frilly frock. She glared at Maggie, daring her to laugh. “Make me look a bleedin’ tea cozy!”

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Themis Lyra Margaret Wallace
OOC: For the Drabbler Stamp & CC qualification

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

“Well, you are posh now, and posh people like tea.” she lifted an imaginary cup to her lips while holding her pinkie out just so. She had thought herself a devil when she had first started at the tea room and begun scooping up all the little loose change the customers left behind. Until someone pointed out that the change had been left for her. So now here she was out shopping with her best friend and somehow her old Astronomy professor and a little bag of coins she didn't have to beg for. What was her life turning into?

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Charley Goode Themis Lyra

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   Charley Goode, Themis Lyra

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With her son fully grown, Themis believed her days of shopping for growth spurts were over. She also never imagined herself playing chaperone to two former students: one was now her ward, and the other, who had spent the better part of the last year loathing her magical gifts.

Still, she found the two girls endearing. She saw more than a bit of herself in the spitfire currently fearing lace. “Mind your language in public, or we’ll need that lace to designate you as sufficiently ‘posh.’” Whether or not she was serious, Themis almost dared the girls to find out.

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Lou made magic!

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"Figured we'd come to put me in drag, not turn me into a bit o' jam," Charley pointed out mindfully to the professor, sparing her from the crossed eyes and stuck-out tongue at Maggie instead. She left behind the lacy sort, trailing a hand that beckoned for her friend to follow. Maggie was her better reminder of how to look, not to mention moral support, and she was bound to need plenty of it. Professor Lyra’s posh sort of dresses seemed more costumes, wearing them about all day might drive an urchin mad. “I’ll be needin’ summat more practical, too.”

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Maggie couldn't help judging Charley. Her friend didn't realise how pretty she might be if she was in one of these lovely dresses, Maggie might try one on herself, they were out of her price range, but oh so lovely. She's a scuffer, something with a firm knee might be in order. She said in her sternest voice, but the puffing of her cheeks showed that she might be worryingly close to a full giggling fit. What is your favourite colour professor? She asked, looking at a pair of dresses that might be made for a seventeen year old debutante.

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Charley Goode Themis Lyra

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   Charley Goode

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“You’ll be needing a great many things and at least a few of them will be dresses.” Themis would require her to know her role in the wider world, but she also wasn’t out to punish Charley. “However, that dress would make you look like a doily.”

“Thank you, Miss Wallace. Reinforced knees it is.” Themis rewarded the polite young lady with her attention. Perhaps Charley would take the hint and listen. “I have always favored blue and purple, but I find that I am partial to red.” Themis thought of Samuel and would not explain that to the children.

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Lou made magic!

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"You really fancy red, ya en't jes sayin' that?" Charley glanced down at her red vest, and the scuffed trousers that might have once been red. The red braid under her red cap turned with her to stare at the professor, one who had twice-now agreed with her. Nobody agreed with her twice. "'Cept I hear my sorta workin' gal shouldn't wear red." The urchin still did in spite of that advice, folks always had all sorts of advice, with little useful. She ran her hand along the leg of some pinstriped trousers, "Maybe I could get to likin' blue."

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   Margaret Wallace

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

“I wonder?” She thought to herself, shuddering at the thought of that monstrous possessed hat. “Whether you are both Gryffindors because you like red, or if it's the other way?” Maggie supposed there wasn't a pink house but the golds and flowery yellows decorating the Hufflepuff den were pretty in their own right. She smirked at Charley as the professor confirmed she would need dresses. “This one!”” She said with a squeak. It was perfect, a light blue day dress with floral accents that would hang beautifully to Charley's calf. And Maggie's ankle should she ever need to borrow it.

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Themis Lyra Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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“I really fancy red,” Themis declared while giving Charley’s hat a tug toward her eyes. Themis was serious about the girl’s future and expected her to apply herself. She also wanted her to be a girl while she had the opportunity. The world would ruin play soon enough.

“I like red because it’s bold, courageous, and, apparently, so did Godric Gryffindor.” Themis grinned as she turned to ribbons and trim. Miss Wallace’s glee caught her attention and Themis turned to see a rather pretty option. “That would be lovely, Charley.” Themis wasn’t blindly optimistic. She was already anticipating a rebellion.

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   Charley Goode

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Lou made magic!

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"Bet it's the hair," Charley suggested, and she was sure that Professor Lyra took that to heart the way her cap jostled. Her arms came up to protect it, out of her few possessions that was the most important. She shot a fierce warning look to the woman, now distracted more by ribbons than her cap. Good. The cap was part of her urchin-ness, she wasn't the frilly, pleasant-looking young lady the others wanted her dressed like. "An' that one'll have me wearin' the whole flower shop!"

Charley tried to hide her grin, the notion did have a certain appeal.

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

Maggie looked at Charley's reaction to the professor trying to touch her hat. Might be a problem there.

“I wonder if that old Hufflepuff lady liked ice cream as much as I do.” She added to the mention of Mr Gryffindor. Maggie liked ice cream, she really she ice cream.

“Perhaps we might find a dress that would work with your cap rather than against it, treat it like a beret instead of… whatever kind of cap you call it?” Maggie loved dresses and would enjoy seeing Charley looking elegant in one, but she also loved Charley, warts and all.

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Themis Lyra Charley Goode

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Themis’ didn’t hide her smirk. Charley had mused at the amount of redheads in Gryffindor the night they began this adventure under the stars. Themis would remember to count how many of her first year hellions were redheads. Opinions needed evidence, after all.

Themis watched the girls banter and wondered if Miss Wallace might be better suited to apprenticing with a modiste than serving tea. Themis also made a note to stop imagining the future of every child she encountered. If only it was the sort of thing she could resist.

“Not every outfit requires the cap, Charley.” Themis reminded.

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Lou made magic!

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"This 'ere's the finest sort o' hat to grace all o' streetkind, young miss," Charley added a little more urchin cadence to her words than usual, and doffed her cap with a theatrical aplomb. She set it on top of Maggie's head, adjusting it this way and that like a peddler's wares. Then she looked once at the professor for if that might satisfy the woman's latest new rule, among many demanded of the urchin. "Wear this, not that, stand here, don't slouch...gonna run me ragged afore I even climb the roofs, Professor, an' who'll be bringin' flowers 'round then?"

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.

As the hat descended onto her head, Maggie did a little curtsey towards the professor. She didn't mind wearing the hat, it clashed entirely with her current outfit so would be returned shortly, but if it got Charley to try on some pretty dresses she could borrow, she would even wear those uncomfortable looking suspenders if she had to.

You're not supposed to mention the roof climbing in front of your new mum." She giggled. Maggie knew that Charley was not joking to be the case, but better she find out when it was too late to change her mind.

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Themis Lyra Charley Goode

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   Charley Goode

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She grinned at the girls and their hat games, offering her own, formal curtsey to Miss Wallace and Charley. Themis wasn’t so old she forgot the fun of play. That didn’t mean she condoned recklessness. “Why, exactly, do you think climbing roofs is an appropriate pastime, Charley?” Themis’s tone held the edge of warning. She didn’t take the girl in so she could break her neck mimicking chimney sweeps.

Themis’s impending interrogation was derailed when Miss Wallace spoke up. A particular word was a shock to the system. ‘New mum.’ Oh, she needed to speak with Charley alone after this.

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Lou made magic!

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"Don't need a new mum when mine's still out there, silly mop," Charley said to the other girl, but she wasn't looking to chide her. With eyes on the dress, she sized it up in her head. The urchin thought it might look more right on a lady tempting her with a bulging purse instead. "I'm dicky 'bout it, would I even know it's me under all the pretty flowers? En't wearin' 'em, only deliver 'em myself." She caught sight of a dress further back, grey with a hidden plaid in the skirt folds. "Now this one's rather clever, eh?"

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Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.