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Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1892. 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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“Got the morbs” was Victorian slang for a temporary melancholia — Dante
In a panic sort of reaction, she shut the door but neglected to make sure she was on the other side of it.
the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways


Private
Exactly Where He Shouldn't Be
#1
March, 1891 — Hogshead
@Hestia / @Tilda MacFusty
Alexander had learned a thing or two about sneaking out in the last year.  Firstly, the more you did it the more suspicious people people were.  Secondly, when you got an opportunity you took it.  Which means he didn't always think ahead.  This was not usually a problem since his only goal was only ever to just get out.  Today was a little different. 

When he'd slipped out of the orphanage that day he'd only thought of his luck and the thrill of being free from his caretakers had carried him all the way to High Street. Once he was a good distance from the orphanage he realized he didn't have his coat.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the cold. 

He tried to convince himself that it was bracing... exciting even but soon enough his teeth were chattering.  Spying the Hogshead he knew it was exactly where he'd go to get warm because it was exactly the place he probably shouldn't go.  And who would tell him not too? 

He pushed in through the front door, peering around curiously. 


Set by Kit!
#2
Perhaps it was the fact that her warming charms had worn off completely and she'd barely had time to cast new ones, or perhaps it was just one of those days. Either way, Hestia was in a (perhaps) uncharacteristically bad mood when she noticed the door of the Hogs Head open. The movement was caught out of the corner of her eye, and it was the slowness of it that made her look once more.

Usually when people came into the establishment, the door was thrust open as if it were paper. Rarely did someone nudge it open as if for an exploratory glance.

The witch paused, glasses in hand and turned to see a small child poke his head into the room. Usually this would warrant a bark from Hestia and a shoo with a flick of her dish towel, but today, Hestia hesitated, watching him peer around in curiosity. Turning back to her work, she finished wiping the desk before flicking her wand at the glasses in her hand to make them float past the newcomer and to the bar. "And what are you doing here?" She asked, her voice somewhat stern as she looked down at him.
#3
Immediately his chin raised, a reflex of quiet defiance against any adult that might have something to say about him. He hadn't even set eyes on whoever was speaking but it was easy to assume it was directed at him and even easier to assume it was some one who probably wanted to boss him about.

"Just looking."  He muttered, hand still on the door.  He wasn't chased off yet but he knew it might not be far off and it was easier to make a dash for it if he was still half way out the door.  His eyes swept the room, generally curious but mostly looking for a fire.  Places like this usually had fires right?  As defiant as his face might have been, the shivers had taken over the rest of him, including some of his resolve. 


Set by Kit!
#4
As the boy's chin came up in defiance, so did Hestia's eyebrows. Having taken in plenty of children from off the streets and given them something to do, a little bit of cheek from them was something that had instilled a bit of a reflex in Hestia. Her eyebrows came up and her hand went to her hip as she tilted her head. "I see." She watched him survey the room.

In truth, he didn't seem to have come here to stir up trouble - usually Hestia could sniff that intention out from the other side of the Hog's Head. He had also remained at the door and hadn't stepped one inch further inside the pub; something that a troublemaker certainly wouldn't have been able to do. Unless he was distracting her. Hestia's eyes moved quickly from the boy at the door to behind her. Nothing.

"Well either come in, or scram, your choice." She tossed at him, before sighing as if either option was of no consequence to her, and moving to the nearest table. Flicking her wand at the spare dishes, she set about brushing the crumbs off the table and onto the floor. Another flick of her wand saw the crumbs disappear and the glasses on another table float serenely past the boy and into the kitchen.

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