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
Maybe a choice shade of grey - the closest thing she had to mourning clothes - as a symbolic marker that her relationship with Victor was dead.
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canary in the coal mine
August 26th, 1892 - Ministerial Memorial for the Dead
If Elliot couldn't find a murderer, what was the point of him?

This was what drove him to come to the Ministerial Memorial that Friday evening. He lit a candle and did his best to fade into obscurity; the theory was that he'd get a feeling when he was near the killer, if they were here. But he already felt vaguely nauseous, and there were a lot of people here. He gave his Inner Eye a little nudge that bore nothing.

Maybe he had to think about this more logically?

"I met the Daily Prophet woman once," Elliot remarked to the nearest person. "But it really doesn't seem like much connects these people."

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The memorial felt as much an obligation as anything else. She didn't know any of the dead - not really. She knew of Mister Mulciber, but not in any particularly intimate fashion. And still, she felt that a refusal to attend would have looked worse, and that somehow she would be oddly conspicuous by her absence - as though the ministry would be showing up on the doorsteps of the people who skipped first thing tomorrow.

'Oh I'm sorry for your loss' Elizabeth noted, biting her lip. 'I couldn't see any connection either, different walks of life, different professions, it seems as though their only connection is the fact that they are all magical?' she mused. She wondered if that meant there was an angry squib out there seeking revenge on the magical community. 'And those notices in the Prophet are incredibly sinister, and rather frightening.'

Elliot shrugged. He hadn't known the photographer well, but it seemed uncouth to shrug off condolences. "And I believe everyone died in Irvingly or Hogsmeade," he offered. Off the top of his head, he was not sure, but he was fairly confident that was the case. That narrowed his mental suspect pool to — oh, possibly anyone in Scotland. Merlin.

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Lissy didn't envy the ministry's job, from what the papers had said there was no known connection between the victims, and her anxiety was through the roof - worried that she or one of her siblings would be the next random victim of this malevolence. 'Perhaps the fates shall reveal something to you Mister Carmichael' she remarked, she had missed Mister Carmichael as a professor herself, but her younger sister, who was also a seer, had rather hero worshiped the Professor, to the point where she suspected her sister might have harbored something of a crush.

'I certainly don't think Miss Mulciber is responsible for her husbands death.' she remarked her brow furrowed, it felt like a lazy target for the ministry.

He shrugged; maybe the fates would show him something, but now that he was looking, he wasn't sure it would appear to him.

Elliot nodded. "That kind of transfiguration is tough," he said. He didn't think that the housewife could have pulled it off — and if she had been able to, surely she would have found a more subtle way to commit the murder.

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