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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


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Say Geronimo
#1
June 18, 1892 - Irvingly Spring Celebration, Salem Square

Still getting to know his new roommate, Gus had practically begged Astorwood to attend the spring festival with him; while meant mainly for the muggles, he was never one to turn away from a place where he could obtain some candy or chocolate he hadn’t had before. Astorwood was going to judge him for the amount of sweets he could put away once he realized how big of a sweet tooth the redhead had. The no use of magic would be welcomed too - he’d had more than enough of his fill during the school year, and having one day without having to raise his wand would do wonders. He’d already consumed a funnel cake, and while he wanted a second, Gus had decided to try his hand at one of the games before he did. It was interesting to see what muggles came up with without magic, and he was even more amused at watching them play said games.

“Astorwood,” He turned toward him with a slight smile. “Let’s play that one. It looks interesting enough.” Tilting his head toward one of the booths, Gus initially stopped in the middle of the path to watch, only to have a woman squawk at him as she nearly barreled into him. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head as he took a few steps to the side, muttering a quick apology, although he kept his eyes trained on the man behind the booth who was handing a child a few rubber rings. The child tried - and failed - to toss the rings around the top of one of the glass bottles. While he wasn’t entirely sure how well his aim would be, he wanted to give it a shot.

His smile widened as he waited for the man to collect the rings from the floor. “I’m going for one of those.” He said, motioning to just above the booth, where a few different prizes hung; none were of any interest, but he wasn’t one to ever shy away from a challenge. Gus exchanged a few coins for the rubber rings, which he set down on the counter in front of him. His fingers gripped one of them as he closed one eye to get a better visual of the glass bottle, his tongue pressed into his cheek. Then Gus tossed the ring. It rattled against the top of the glass bottle before promptly falling to the floor.

The redhead sighed. “Wanna try one?” He asked as he stepped aside, blinking at the man. Gus offered an easy smile before he shrugged. Surely Astorwood would have better aim than he did - he was a professional quidditch player after-all.



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