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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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“Cheese and Crust” - an exclamation common among the lower classes. A perversion of the invocation of the name of Jesus Christ, though considered somewhat respectful for its veiling of the oath. — Bounce
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


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a close encounter of the spectral kind
#1
24 January, 1893 — Asphodel Cemetery

Things seemed to be going to plan, and now that the initial frenzy had worn off, Victor was beginning to realize that going to plan was frankly terrible. No one suspected Beatrice of having accidentally murdered him, but he was none the less very dead. He didn't have his job to keep him busy during the day, and while he'd stopped in to the hospital a few times to help ease the transition he was beginning to suspect that his presence there was seen as more of an inconvenience than anything else. He didn't have any of his usual hobbies to entertain himself with; he could cast, which took experimental spellwork out of the realm of possibility, and he couldn't read or write without corporeal limbs. Probably worst of all, his family was mourning him, which meant the lot of them were stuck in the house together all day, doing nothing but feeling miserable about it.

He'd just needed to get out of the house, and he hadn't planned it out any further than that. He honestly hadn't known where he was heading until he was already at the edge of the cemetery, at which point all he could do was think oh, this is rather maudlin. But he was already here, so it seemed a shame not to visit his grave now. It was strange that he was the first Daphnel buried here — his father or his mother should have preceded him by a good many years. He shouldn't be here yet. He'd had his whole life ahead of him, and now... well. Now here he was. It was strange, too, to think that his might be an isolated grave. Christabel might very well end up being buried somewhere else, if she remarried. He'd have no children surrounding him in the cemetery.

This was... depressing. Why had he come here? Victor supposed he'd been pushing this sort of thing away from the forefront of his mind for long enough that it must have been bubbling up in his subconscious, but that didn't mean he was ready to face it yet. Still, he meandered towards his grave — until he turned the corner around a mausoleum and realized someone was already there.

Oh. Leo.

"H-hey," he said, trying out a smile — he had no idea what to do or say in this situation. He raised one hand to rub the back of his head and moved to lean up against the side of the mausoleum, in an attempt to look more casual... only to fall through the stone when he failed to account for the nuances of spiritual movement.
@Leonid Fisk @Tycho Dodonus



Fabulous set by Lady!

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