July 22nd, 1889 — Port of London

Rugged boots hit land with a thump as Arven hopped from the pier and looked back round at the good ship 'Voyager', hair whipping round his head in the breeze. Even for a veteran wanderer like Arven, the mission to Africa had proved an adventure like no other; not least because he'd departed and returned with other people. He’d made friends. He’d made other things too. He’d been part of a crew. But now the tall Englishman had returned to old London, skin darkened by the sun and green eyes already searching the evening for the nearest tavern: he was as parched as a man lost in the Sahara.

He could’ve joined the bustling of the others, or he could’ve stood back and observed, or he could’ve just joined the portkey back to Hogsmeade for a slew of creature comforts — but Arven had already slipped out of the crowd and vanished into the Fox & Hound tavern, which was nigh empty. Smooth and unwavering, he ordered a pint of ice cold ale and downed the whole thing in one.

Felicity Gallagher

  

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Felicity stepped into Fox & Hound tavern, shortly after Arven's entrance. The cat calls and whistles from the occasional odd fellow muffled as the door closed. The cloak she wore with a bit of cloth to mask all her but her eyes, did not always worked, and at this point she was looking more for an escape from the hounds outside, then what the inside could offer.

She paused in her step as her gaze swept the room for a place to sit and then much to her delight, could it be him? She watched the tall man with rascally blonde hair for a moment and then smiled. Foot steps fell behind him into silence, "Back from Africa I take it?" It was an assumption given wha the news paper had said. He was never far from an adventure.

She let the cloth fall away from her features and drew down her hood. There was safety to be had in this man's presence, unfortunately her half veela traits caught the poor bartender off guard and the man ended up dropping various mugs along with his jaw. A shattering of glass rippling through the air, and that wasn't the only head to turn.

Felicity ignored them though, her eyes souly on Arven, he was a welcome tall drink indeed in the busy bustling London.

Arven Fisk

  

Once he'd opened his eyes from the bliss of demanded refreshment, he immediately saw a certain someone over the top of his tankard. Lowering the now-empty receptacle to the bar, Arven flashed a crooked smile at the lithesome young woman. Felicity Gallagher rightly commanded the attention of everyone in the public house, sparse though the clientele was this evening, including the bartender. Arven ignored the sound of shattering glass. "Quite right. Home from the sea", he confirmed Felicity's apt assumption. She knew him to be a flighty sort.

Now that the bartender had more or less regained his composure, Arven ordered Felicity's drink of choice. It was not the first time these two had spent time at a bar together.

"This may be the first time I've ever seen you out of Hogsmeade", he realised, eyes unmoving on her radiant face. It was pleasant indeed to witness a little bit of magic in the heart of muggle London.

  

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Felicity took a mug of home brew, nothing too strong, but something that would still wet her whistle. The beer served up with a look from the bartender she felt lingered too long, the half veela turned her attention to Arven and did her best to ignore the other men in the room, "Aye, suppose it has, but Trevor insisted I get out for a bit, said the stale air was fogging up my mind. As it just so happened Philip was due for a trip to London to scrounge up some more performers, and it was thought I should tag along. So here I am." She said with a smile.

Her hand went to his, finger tips brushing along the inside of his palm. The sentiment told Arven in a quiet way that her treasures were still his to claim should he wish, and in addition it told all the men wishing they were Arven that she had chosen her match for the night and they needed to go away, or at least stop staring like starved pups. "Tell me about your trip Arven, it's been so long and you always have the most exciting tales!" She bit her bottom lip in anticipation. Felicity loved to hear stories of adventure, it reminded her of a time long passed for her, when she was traveling under her step father's banner as a carnie.

Deep brown eyes locked onto his and her smile never waned. She knew quite well he was the flighty sort, but she liked that about him. It kept things fresh and exciting between them, leaving the dull and disappointing aspects of life to the hum drums of the everyday. Besides Felicity was not interested in marriage and she had told Arven quite some time ago just to make sure he wasn't lead astray into wayward delusions of the heart.

  

The tankard of cold beer, a missing delicacy, was a very welcome refreshment to return to. But then, Felicity Gallagher was several times more refreshing than that. She took his hand in her usual sly and sleek way, as if she needing to capture more of his attention. She did not need to — she already had it.

So — exciting tales. Easy.

”Alright then — I’ll regale you of the tale of Kiva. She was just a little one, lost and alone on the bank of the Niger, waist-deep in mud after a flash flood the night before. I approached having heard her cries from the other side of the grove. In the end it took three of us to get her loose, as well as a sturdy branch from a Baobab tree. But just when we’d almost freed Kiva from the mud, her mother made an appearance. Enormous, almost six metres tall. Kiva was a giraffe, you see”, he revealed. ”And the mother was not happy to find her calf in distress. The long and short of it is the mother got stuck too… and it took all night to solve such a big problem. I could’ve used a cold ale and a pretty face after that one, let me tell you”, Arven concluded with a roguish smile.

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   Felicity Gallagher

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Her ears, ever so keen for his tale, thought at first that Kiva was a child, but then mid story he gave things a bit of a twist. Here eyes got big, and her smile grew broad, but then when he spoke of the giraffe calf's mother this faded into momentary worry. She slipped closer hands grasping his slightly tighter as if her own touch could aid him in his triumph and then it came as she gasped, "That is so daring and honorable of you! Everyone must have been so exhausted, and that poor giraffe, you must have slept a while day and night. How incredible of you."

She wasn't exaggerating either, Felicity tended to have a soft spot for the exotic. "I wish I could travel again." Her doe eyes dipped down, " But Phil can't do it all and I'm afraid the whole theatre would burn to the ground. Even now it is hard to step away from, but good company puts me at ease. I'd tell you more but... " Her gaze moved up slowly savoring every inch of him, and then a devious smirk took hold of him, "Where are you staying Arven? I dare say there are more private matters worthy of discussion."

  

Felicity was a consummate audience, smiling and gasping at all the right moments. Daring, honourable, exhausting... yes, these were all good ways to describe the expedition.

At her proposal, Arven downed the last of his tankard, more than content to oblige her implication. "Forget where I'm staying — I'll do you one better". He had an idea that might appeal to her unsatisfied desire for adventure; at least a little. He stood, and held out one weather-beaten hand. "Come".

  

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A grin spread from cheek to cheek and flourished up into the crows feet of her eyes as he requested she come. She placed her hand in his, and fingers folded around his palm. Felicity trusted him, more than most, and that was saying something, but Fisk was respectful towards her, and they generally had a good time together. She squeezed his hand in excitement, his hint that she was ready to go where ever and when ever he was.

  

A bit of adventure… nothing too far off the beaten track, for he had only just returned to the country. Besides, his young friend didn’t want to be whisked entirely out of her busy life. But he dared acknowledge she could use some… distraction.

Arven led her to the back porch of the Fox & Hound, where nobody else was present, then tugged her slim form devilishly into his arms. He withdrew his wand, evidently preparing for apparation — ”ready?” Ideally Felicity would need her wand drawn as well.

With a turn and a crack that nearby muggles would mistake for an abrupt bolt of lightning, Arven teleported himself and Felicity into the middle of Richmond Park. They hadn’t left London, but they may as well have done, such was the expanse of verdant all around them, scattered with wild flowers and wooden benches and frolicking deer. But most importantly, they were the only souls here. The sun had all but vanished beneath the horizon, and the gates had been closed for two hours. They had the city’s biggest royal park all to themselves.

  

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Felicity pulled her wand out from up her sleeve and wrapped her arms around Arven's neck, her bosom pressed into his chest causing the lovely melons to ripen and swell ever so slightly from beyond her corset. "Ready!" She said with kerriment and laughter in her voice.

A large crack and they were off to...Her eyes opened to find the beauty of mother nature abound. Something deep, something primal tugged at her heart strings. The veela half of her was never easily tamed. She slipped out of his embrace stumbling about, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Where are we? How...how did you know?" She always had an affinity towards woodlands, though deny it she tried in her urban dwelling. Her head spun and she stumbled this way and that, feeling a hint dizzy from the apparation. Her heel clipped on a stone and she fell back.

  

There were no soaring mountains or sprawling plains, there were no stampeding wildebeests or scowling bandits. But not all adventures were straight out of a novel. Any Londoner would love to have Richmond Park all to themselves; it was just their luck that they could achieve this by magic.

Hands in his pockets, Arven smiled vaguely as he watched Felicity enjoy the pleasant shock — then he darted forward as she stumbled. He caught her light form as if they were dancers in the meadow, holding her steady, bowed over her as he nonchalantly asked — ”are you quite okay?”

  

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Felicity laughed with maddening glee as her arms went about him, "Yes! Yes! YES!" Her voice echoed about the park with no more than a bird to toss up a squawk. "Dance with me Arven, Spin me about the large oak grove, hand and hand we'll weave and go." Her eyes sparked with delight as she straightened herself and slipped into his arms for a bit light stepping.

She began to sing, her voice carried a sweet melody with the sound of birds in the back offering percussion and a beat. "Dance with me on cloven feet dear saytr of the evergreen. Dance with me through rye and pete, past oak and pine so I may forget my deed. Play your pipe, I'll sing my song, dance all night into the dawn. Dance with me on cloven feet dear saytr of the evergreen."

  

The mortal man was already lost in the young part-Veela, from the deep brown of her eyes to the graceful pressing of her slim form, to the devilishly angelic notes of her song. After the latest note sprang from her lips, the tall adventurer swept her into his arms and kissed her. In this moment, Felicity had claimed not just acres of moonlit park, but Arven himself. Never had it felt so good to be so lost.

  

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The night had it's reverie between the two, and when matters of a natural desire were settled between the two, Felicity rolled over on her back staring up at the stars cast over the universe, twinkling back at them. Her breath settled, her clothes a bit disheveled but nothing more thanks to crotch-less underwear. "You ever think what it must be like to venture up there? Where no broom has ever flown?" She asked, a smile toyed on her lips.

Her version of 'pillow talk,' wasn't sweet nothings, just general conversation really, something to make sure they were both grounded in the aftermath. She knew how to make a night worth remembering, but she didn't need the gent she was with obsessing, that would then lead to stalking. So the stars seemed a good topic to level them out, and give her the assurance she needed that Arven was still good old Arven and not some crazed man struck with Cupid's arrow.

  

The sun had long abandoned them to their deeds, but the stars were bright enough to make their eyes twinkle. Slightly out of breath, Arven sat back against a tree, Felicity lain on her back beside him. He tossed a lock of hair from his face and followed the lover’s gaze heavenwards. ”Astronomers have wondered the same”, he mused back, recalling a muggle book he’d read as a teenager. ”To some extent they understand what’s out there, but deem it unreachable. Personally I prefer not to imagine it at all”, he brushed the back of his fingers briefly over Felicity’s exposed arm. ”Earth is big enough for me.”

  

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Felicity frowned, not believing her ears though the smile remained, "The earth is enough? I can't believe what I'm hearing. How could the man of adventure himself possibly have enough. I thought your thirst was never quenched...Mine certainly isn't." She looked to him for but a moment and then looked up, "Sometimes I feel trapped." It was a confession she never made. "Like the Golden Hearth is just some dungeon disguised as a business, and I...I don't know if I'm the warden or the prisoner."