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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.

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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

a friendly face in the crowd;;
June 17th, 1892 — Poppy's Debut at Dashwood Hall, Surrey
Basil was pleased for his cousin Poppy tonight at her debut. Dashwood Hall was spectacularly decorated, much as he’d have expected from Aunt Georgie and her daughter, and Basil was glad to see many familiar faces amongst the crowd. He’d done his best to stay off the dance floor, other than offering one obligatory dance with his cousin, but luckily he’d managed to find a way out of that when she’d requested a fresh pair of slippers. (It had been a debacle to find them, but ultimately Basil had managed it.) Now, as he accepted gallantly another glass of champagne and spotted a familiar blonde across the way, Basil decided he would take the moment to be social. It was, after all, what Atticus expected of him.

“Miss Victoire,” he greeted politely, coming up just beside the lady. “You look absolutely stunning this evening.” It was a stark contrast to their first meeting a few months ago when she’d practically startled him into spilling a drink over them both, and then he’d edged to escape any further interaction. Indeed, they’d come a long way since New Years Eve and Basil, not nearly so decided against the young lady altogether, was glad to find respite in her presence. She was a friendly face in a crowd full of hungry debutantes.

As such, he was surprised, perhaps, that she was not out on the dance floor at this very moment and could only imagine the whatever gentleman had asked for a dance had simply… failed in his duties. Basil was not blind enough to think Miss Victoire did not have her own swarm of suitors, but he used the gentleman’s lapse to his advantage. In truth, the brunette was dying to ask her about Atticus and if his brother had paid her any attention this evening the way he was supposed to! But, as that seemed rather forward and a bit embarrassing for them both if the answer was no, he tried fishing in the other direction. “I’m surprised to see you on the sidelines.” He quipped, gently. “Have the gentleman here all lost their wits or have you simply cast a disillusionment charm to give yourself a respite?”

Torie was quite enjoying herself this evening. She had danced with several handsome gentlemen, though she had yet to capture Mr. Foxwood's attention again, she had had a delightful conversation with Miss Dashwood. A little conspiring while watching her sister on the dance floor was always a welcome respite from the rest of the socializing. Not to mention she found Miss Dashwood to be quite refreshing in personality and highly suspected they would grow to be friends.

In between she had taken a few more turns about the floor and found herself with another welcome break in her dance card, as to be expected, it was not her debut after all. Choosing a glass of lemonade this time, she was about to locate her mother when she felt Professor Foxwood sidle up to her. "I was saving a slot for you, but you are largely absent from my dance card!" She teased easily. "And thank you, I'm quite adept at elegant and understated for events such as these. Your darling cousin looks quite beautiful this evening as well. I simply adore her." Torie was usually quick to make friends, but she rather thought she and Poppy might be quite close this season, which was a lovely change.

"And you, have you done your due diligence on the dance floor with the other young ladies this evening, then?" Torie was already well-versed in Professor Foxwood's social graces, or somewhat lack thereof, but she found it quite charming nevertheless. This was why they were able to have these conversations and the casual banter that they usually consisted of. It was a pleasant change from all of the traditional, well, pleasantries.

The following 1 user Likes Victoire Malfoy's post:
   Basil Foxwood

Basil couldn’t help the sheepish grin that stole across his face as Miss Malfoy called him out for not inviting her to dance. He really ought to, for sake of keeping up friendly appearances. Her tease was welcome in as much as he knew it to be just that - a tease - and Basil was somewhat impressed at how easily they’d struck up a comfortable acquaintance. He didn’t think himself a disproportionately difficult man, or intimidating to approach, but he’d never had an abundance of female acquaintances simply because many of them were too silly for him to tolerate. While he and Miss Victoire had a common interest in mind (he hoped), it was nice to be able to actually chat with her without feeling any undue pressure.

He was happy to hear that the young lady had met and approved of his cousin Poppy too; that was a hurdle Basil had been trying to avoid altogether, for he was not suited to ensuring ladies friendships. However, he was pleased to hear the two had gotten off on the right foot; God forbid Atticus even look at a woman Poppy Dashwood despised, or they’d all be doomed… But who, really, could meet Miss Victoire and not like her? Basil grinned. “I’m pleased you think so,” he replied, taking another sip of his drink. He adored his cousin but he knew she could be a handful. “Perhaps you can be a good influence on her this upcoming season,” he offered.

At Miss Malfoy’s next quip about his duties Basil couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose a touch and scoff. “Of course not,” he replied easily, honestly. “It’s not my debut,” He offered the lady an impish grin. “I’ve done my duty, even fetching a pair of slippers for the guest of honor!” He sobered a touch, but still grinning continued: “I would however, be remiss if I didn’t at least attempt to entice you onto the floor once this evening. Do you waltz, Miss Malfoy?”

"I should think so. I have one delightful season under my belt, perhaps we will both find happiness this summer." Torie had good feelings about the season this year. Honestly it had been no surprise she was unsuccessful last year, considering she was the youngest of three unmarried sisters, so this would be the summer she pushed harder to make it happen.

Scoffing quietly, Torie hid her smirk behind her lemonade. She tutted at him quietly. "I am starting to believe you don't want to marry." Honestly. This was the perfect opportunity! "Do I waltz?' Torie was doubly scandalized by the question as she was by his lack of effort this evening and it was evidenced by her sharp inhale. "I could waltz as soon as I could walk. Have you had too much champagne this evening?" She was only teasing him, but her tone suggested otherwise on purpose.

Fortunately for him, she did not keep up the pretense, instead draining what was left of her lemonade. "I think the question is, Professor, do you waltz?" She quirked an eyebrow at him carefully, a smile tugging at her lips.

Basil nodded, pleased with Ms. Malfoy’s assertion that both she and Poppy could hopefully find success this season. He didn’t particularly think his younger cousin was ready to be married, so young as she was still, but he didn’t say as much. It was the way of these things and his opinion frankly did not matter. As for Ms. Victoire, they were both hoping she would find success there, particularly with one elder Mr. Foxwood.

As the young lady continued on however, Basil lost his teasing easiness and felt like he’d suddenly stepped on a landmine. He sucked down a quick sip of his champagne, nearly coughing on it, to distract from addressing the idea that no, he did not particularly want to marry. Not now or, possibly, ever; he hadn’t really given it that much thought. Her scandalized gasp nearly made him flinch as his mind continued down that thought-process to a certain red-headed someone but luckily she seemed to still be addressing his waltz. A pink warmth tinged the professor’s cheeks and Basil half frowned at Ms. Victoire for scaring him. “You really are the perfect match for him,” he grumbled, playfully.

“I have a sneaking suspicion I do not waltz as well as you,” Basil continued, taking another sip of his champagne and setting the glass aside. “However, if you’ll be humbled by my efforts, I’d like to attempt as much.” Here the brunette offered the lady both his hand and a small, lopsided grin. The dance had only just begun, they could catch up easily enough. (And contrary to popular belief, despite his distaste for dancing with silly debutants, Basil was not - in fact - a wretched dancer.)

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