Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
With the same account, complete eight different threads where your character interacts with eight different usergroups. At least one must be a non-human, and one a student.
Did You Know?
Braces, or suspenders, were almost universally worn due to the high cut of men's trousers. Belts did not become common until the 1920s. — MJ
It wasn’t like June could turn down an invitation to a charity event without looking some way or another (stingy, greedy, something else perhaps?), so she’d attended more out of obligation than anything else. They had been encouraged to walk among racks of clothing to see what items had been donated, although she wasn’t quite sure what the point was – all of the gowns were beautiful and it wasn’t like the men had much variety in terms of what they wore. Her hand flitted to her mouth to cover a yawn when she heard a sharp gasp from just ahead of her.
The blonde tipped her head as she tried to see what had caused such a ruckus, but soon found herself stepping forward because she couldn’t see from where she was at. A few others had joined her. June couldn’t help but snort as she tried to swallow a full on laugh as she finally spotted it hanging between a neatly pressed robe and a beautiful red dress, although she wasn't sure what the garment was supposed to be: a nightgown? An underskirt? A new form of fashion that someone was trying to encourage?
Either way, it was a dress far too sheer for a respectable young lady.
“I wonder who donated it,” June mused to the nearest person. Things just became much more interesting.
Charity luncheons were an important part of her public persona, and Sera actually liked them. It was good to spend time with other women, making plans with other women, and it gave her something to do on weekdays other than read erotic novels at home.
Sera came up short after one of the debutantes, and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when she saw the sheer garment. An unladylike snort emerged from her nose, and she covered her mouth with her hand to hide her amusement. "That has to be a mistake," Sera said — luckily, the debutante seemed to be more amused than scandalized.
What size was it? Surely it would be better if someone took it off the rack...
The woman who came up seemed just as amused as June was, offering a snort that caused June to turn to look at her before she offered another laugh of her own. “It’s barely a whisper of a dress.” June said, stepping closer to get a better look at it. Her eyes squinted as if that might make the garment more substantial. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
“Someone must have donated it in a fit of revenge. Or madness.” She reached forward to see if the name of the person who donated it had been sewn into it somewhere, that’s what she would have done if she was getting revenge that way, but that didn’t seem to be the case. June was a bit disappointed. “I’ve seen handkerchiefs larger than this.” And napkins. Goodness.
Glancing back at the woman, she added, “Should we be good citizens and quietly shuffle it to the back?” Although it might not do either of them good if they were seen handling it, which they probably would given that they weren't the only people who had spotted it. (Although June would absolutely try it on in private, just to see what it looked like on.)
Revenge or madness, as if they could not be the same thing — but Sera's lips curled into a conspiratorial smile at the younger woman's suggestion. She ought to be more mature about this, but it was particularly difficult to do so when she could see the pale skin of the debutante's hand behind the sheer layer of fabric.
"Let's bring it to the back room," she said, "Before one of the matrons sees it and has a cardiac event." (Sera was older, yes, but she was not a matron!)
Well, the woman didn’t have to say anything else, because the moment she agreed with her, June was taking the garment off the rack, tucking the sheer fabric under her arm in order to hide it. She couldn't help but grin in response. It felt like contraband. A couple nearby women turned at the soft clack of the hanger, and June instinctively turned away from them so they wouldn’t see her with the dress in her arms.
“What I wouldn’t give to have someone throw a ball like this.” The blonde mused aloud, turning toward her now partner in crime. “I mean, with a little more modesty because I don’t want to see people in the nude.” But to dress not in normal clothing that was suffocating half the time? Sign her up.
Sera huffed out a laugh under her breath at the thought of a ball like this — but turned over the idea in her mind. "Maybe I'll throw one," she offered, half-serious. "But how would you describe the theme? It cannot be sluts." Merlin, imagine what her father would do if she pulled that!
She was slightly thrilled at the thought, even though perhaps some of her brothers would not care for the potential scandal of Sera giving Algernon a heart attack.
June snorted (which was unladylike), but she couldn’t help it. The idea of going to a ball with a theme like that was hilarious and even if her father forbade it, well, she’d still find a way to go.
“I think sluts is a perfectly valid theme.” People would know what to wear with a single word, even if they gasped first. June liked this woman. She was funny. “But fine, if we’re being proper, call it a Night in the Restoration Court. Everyone’s encouraged to come as a 17th-century courtesan, muse, or queen, and you know how much people enjoy matching a theme.” Revealing cleavage was quite fashionable in European courts during that time, so who could be mad that someone was being historically accurate?
Sera was feeling rather youthful about this discussion, and could not help but giggle at the young woman. "That's not a bad idea," she said, tone light. "And then we'd all be able to find out who's been padding their corsets." The lower-cut dresses, after all, were far less forgiving of aesthetic lies.
June gave a sharp laugh, warm and unrestrained. She covered her mouth with one hand as if trying, and failing, to keep in the giggles. She turned toward the other woman. “Oh,” she managed to practically wheeze out, “imagine the scandal. Half the room fainting from shame, the other half strutting around like peacocks.” The image seemed to amuse her all over again, a fresh peal of laughter escaping despite her best efforts.
“Okay. Okay. So we rename the ball The Great Unveiling, perhaps?” She waggled her brows. If only they could actually do something so risqué.
Sera was pleased with the laughter of the younger woman; for once, it felt like she was interacting with the other socialites in a way that made sense, after her awakening. And yes, this was a debutante, but — it still felt good. "Now that's an idea I can get behind," she said, "Should I get nude statues for it, too?"
Nude statues made her think of Ida, and for a moment June missed her friend terribly. But now wasn’t the time to dwell or yearn for something she couldn’t have, so instead she turned toward the other woman and let her lips curl into an amused smile. Then June nodded. “I have a spell to make them gyrate.” What woman didn’t?
“Naturally,” she continued, “it should be a garden party. People will expect fountains and pretty flowers, but they certainly wouldn’t be expecting gyrating marble men. Maybe they could even serve the refreshments.” There was a spell to bring statues to life, if June recalled correctly.
Sera laughed, a sharp and loud sound in the emptiness of the back room. "It could even be a tableau vivant," she said, that sly smile still on her face. "Hire some actors to sprinkle in with the statues."
This had started as a joke, but was starting to become appealing.
“That’s brilliant,” She said, already imagining what kind of actors they could hire to run amok at this party. Tableau vivants were tasteful and high class, so it wasn’t like anyone could turn their nose up at it. June turned suddenly, offering the woman a smile. “I’m June, by the way. June Edevane.” If they were planning a party, they ought to know each other, right?
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