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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
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.
dining is pageantry

love is blind
September 7th, 1892 — Dempsey Estate, Ireland

Oz had told himself that he wasn't going to do this, because it was the inventor's equivalent of picking at a scab. Things were over between him and Sophia Voss. Though one might argue who had called them off (it had unarguably been her at first, but after their chance encounter at the opera things seemed less clear-cut), the fact that it had been called off was indisputable. His relationship with the London Ballet was on relatively thin ice as a result; he intended to ride out the remainder of his patronage contract while only attending the opening week-ends and then cut it off entirely when it came time to renew. Trying to recreate the powder they used in the performances was a waste of his time and mental energy. It was particularly useless because everything he knew about it came from what Sophia had told him, or from her demonstration of it in the catwalks, and all of those memories were tainted with both emotion and the fact that he'd been mildly intoxicated. So he was essentially throwing darts at a board with a blindfold on, and doing it while reliving some memories that were better left untouched, but here he was all the same. Care'll kill a cat.

The question on his mind at the moment was whether the powder was tuned specifically into a certain kind of effect or whether it was general. It seemed probable that it was the latter, based on how he'd felt in the catwalks when she'd blown it into his eyes; it was unlikely that they had a whole stock of intoxicating seduction powder stashed away for her general use when greeting new patrons (unlikely; not entirely impossible). But if that was the case, which combination of spells to use? She'd mentioned confundus, but it couldn't be as simple as that. Someone else would have copied it by now if that was all. Was the effect in the spells applied, or in the powder itself? He'd sourced talc for the purpose, but that might be too neutral a base. Had she said something about plant matter, or was he only imagining that as the wheels in his head turned?

The powder he had now, tempered with half a dozen spells and ground to a fine powder, certainly didn't look like what they'd used at the ballet. Oz decided heating it might help, so lit a small fire beneath a platter of it and diverted his attention to a book for the sake of research. When he looked back, the powder had started to bubble and foam, certainly not the desired effect. He extinguished the fire with his wand and took a towel to toss over the powder, to prevent it spilling out in every direction. The moment the towel made contact with it, however, the powder exploded out in a hazy cloud... which was the last thing he saw.

"Hell," he swore. He coughed and swatted at the cloud with his hands, trying to dissipate it. While he eventually was able to stop coughing and start breathing more clearly again, no amount of blinking was bringing back his vision. "Bloody hell," he swore again, before fumbling his way towards the door of the workshop. Fortunately he knew the space well enough to manage that; unfortunately he wasn't the tidiest while he was working, and knocked over several scattered ingredients on his way. Hopefully nothing that would cause even bigger problems. "Thomasina!" he bellowed up the stairs, hoping she was somewhere she could hear him. He didn't think he knew the rest of the house well enough to navigate it blind, and he didn't especially want any of his siblings wandering by and offering to help.
@Thomasina Dempsey

MJ is the light of my life <3
Between an air of something and Christabel's ~man, Thomasina had plenty of nosiness to occupy her free time. She was working on a letter to one of her friends documenting some of her observations when she heard her husband bellowing. Sina pushed her chair back from the desk she was writing at and sighed. She considered pretending not to hear him, but historically this part of their conversations was the least entertaining.

Sina stepped over to the top of the stairs. "What?" she bellowed back at Oz. She didn't care who heard, or who else may be home — this was about to be their show, at least until she went back to her letter.

It was clear from the sound of her voice that she was standing far away, and she didn't seem to be moving any closer. At least she had heard him. "Come here!" he demanded, tone implying that this ought to have been obvious and she was an idiot for not already having done so.

MJ is the light of my life <3
Sina stomped halfway down the stairs and squinted at her husband, who looked more pathetic than usual. There was a layer of concern settling in her chest because of it. "What could you possibly want?" she called, tone sharp.

Gah, and she still wasn't all the way down the stairs? This was galling. If she expected him to come up to meet her halfway, she was out of her mind. He wouldn't have done so under normal circumstances, but he especially had no desire to do so when it would mean having to grope blindly for the stair rail and possibly trip on something on his way up. Having temporarily blinded himself was one thing; making a scene about it was quite another (making a pitiful scene, at any rate; he had no qualms at all about making a scene by yelling at his wife).

"One of the only things you're good for," he returned gruffly. "Something happened to my eyes. I'd appreciate it if you didn't take the entire day coming down the stairs."

MJ is the light of my life <3
Sina flounced down until she was on the second step from the bottom; she reached to grab Ozymandias' chin and tilt his face towards her. "You continue to be the stupidest person I know," she chided, tone soft as she contemplated his eyes. "What did you do?"

Whenever Oz was injured, it was his own fault.

The following 1 user Likes Thomasina Dempsey's post:
   Ozymandias Dempsey
"Also the handsomest," he replied with a degree of smugness that was entirely unwarranted given how helpless he was at the moment. He was gratified that she'd finally made her way down the stairs; now that she was here he was sure the trouble with his eyes would be solved imminently. She had never failed to fix him previously.

"Blew something up," he answered as she tipped his chin up. "As one does."

MJ is the light of my life <3
Of course he had. Sina exhaled. "What did you blow up?" she asked. She needed details if she was going to fix him.

"I don't know why you're acting as though I did this purposefully to inconvenience you," he grumbled, in response to her tone rather than her words. Not that he'd expected anything else from her. So long as she got his eyes working again, she could be as irritated about it as she pleased.

"Talc. Powder form. It's not explosive," he added, in case she didn't know (she probably did). "So it must have been a reaction between some of the spells I was using. Which — there were probably too many," he admitted. Probably in this case meaning definitely. Typically when he invented things Ozymandias blundered through until he produced the desired effect, then made it more elegant and simpler as he refined it, but the amount of magic applied to the powder in his workshop had been excessive even by his measures.

MJ is the light of my life <3

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