Welcome to Charming
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

The Isle of Ilertu - Prologue
10 June 1892 — trapped 10 mins — Inside an enchanted book

Usually when Ben went book shopping, he regretted it. He never ended up finding something he actually wanted to buy, and being surrounded by so many books was a little intimidating. No matter how small or disorganized the bookstore he chose was, it always ended up feeling less like a store and more like the Hogwarts Library to him. Given that he'd done five or six hours of detention in the Hogwarts Library and probably less cumulative study time there throughout all his years at Hogwarts, the association wasn't a positive one.

He'd picked this book up because the font on the cover was interesting, which in hindsight was a terrible reason to pick up a book. The Isle of Ilertu. The cover had the feeling of an adventure novel, and the front few pages contained a carefully inked map of an island that Ben assumed was fictional; he'd never heard of it, anyway. He'd flipped to one of the middle chapters to see what it was about, and before he knew it the book was gone and so was the bookstore. So were most things, actually — his suit had disappeared and he was wearing some sort of cape instead, made of crude fabric and some fur. He took a few moments to take stock of his surroundings — a crude camp set up nearby, with some tools, but no wand or any sort of magical item in sight. He picked up everything on the off chance it was a portkey. He swore a few times. Then he wandered to the beach of what he supposed was probably the Isle of Ilertu and weighed the pros and cons of wading out into the ocean.

This was an illusion of some sort, Ben imagined, but he had no idea how to break out of it from his current position. If it wasn't real, the waves wouldn't drown him — right?
@Amity Rosewood
It would only be a couple of months now until Amity was finally out of mourning. Amity didn't feel any better about her grief but she was somewhat looking forward to being able to float about with her friends. She had missed being able to do that.

For now, she was shopping. She had entered a bookstore and found a book that looked appealing. Picking it up, she noted the map in the interior and purchased it. Walking out of the bookshop, she decided to thumb through her new purchase.

Next thing she knew, she was... well, not outside of a bookstore or really, anywhere she recognized.

Amity realized that she was sprawled on some sort of shore on top of what seemed to be some sort of broken piece of board. The dress she was wearing seemed rather old fashioned and it was torn in places. Rather than put up in ringlets or indeed any of her usual hair styles, her hair was in its natural state which was a tumble of thick, luminous curls.

Standing on the beach, she shielded her eyes as she looked around to see if anyone else was around and knew what was going on here.

In the distance, on another part of the beach she was able to make out a man. "Hello?" She called out after a moment of hesitation. She picked up a rock in case it turned out she might need a weapon against him.

Ben had nearly made up his mind to try his luck in the surf when he heard a voice from down the beach. He was quite sure that he wasn't in a real place, and was a bit surprised to see that anyone else had accompanied him here. Was this girl part of the illusion, or was she similarly transported? If there were multiple people involved in this thing, was that a good sign or a bad sign? Ben had been a cursebreaker, so he wasn't one to panic at the first sign of strange magic, but usually when he was faced with an odd predicament he had his wand on him — or at least a full set of clothes. His unmentionables were covered, but his chest was bare, which wasn't the ideal way to approach a young woman. He did his best to pull the cape-thing that was around his shoulders tighter to cover up more of his bare skin before he picked his way across the beach towards her.

(He was also missing shoes, which became very apparent when he took his first step and landed on a broken seashell. After another muttered curse, he chose his steps more carefully the rest of the way.)

"Two questions," Ben announced when he was close enough that he thought his voice would carry over to her. "Who are you, and do you have a wand?"
As they got closer to one another, Amity took on a full realization of what the man was wearing. She was a touch scandalized but also intrigued. She covered her eyes with one hand but ended up moving her fingers so that she could peek through them at him. He looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't say from where.

"I'm Amity Rosewood and no, I do not. I take it from your question that you don't either but are at least a fellow wizard." That was a relief at least. Not that she was a purist or anything but if she did manage to find a wand, she did not want to explain what it was to a muggle.

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