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Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1894. 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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Queen Victoria was known for putting jackets and dresses on her pups, causing clothing for dogs to become so popular that fashion houses for just dog clothes started popping up all over Paris. — Fox
It would be easy to assume that Evangeline came to the Lady Morgana only to pick fights. That wasn't true at all. They also had very good biscuits.
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Life in Fiction
#1
Daytime, 21st March, 1894 — Greengrass Home, Bartonburg
She had resolved to stay at the house today, so as not to have a repeat of that abortive shopping trip. (At the house: she wasn’t at ease enough yet to dare call it home.)

It might have been easier to settle in if Ford had been here during the days – she had just adjusted to spending all that time in his company at the Sanditon, and now he was at work. Not that anyone had been dreadfully unfriendly to her yet, but she still felt uncomfortably like a guest whom no one had actually wanted to invite. And – unlike a guest – even if Jemima took the hint, she had nowhere else to go.

So she had been doing her best to seem busy without getting into anyone else’s way – and without having any real purpose in life, either. (Previously most of her daily activities had been spent in debutante-esque pursuits, which were altogether irrelevant now.) Jemima was hovering at a bookcase downstairs, not-so-casually scanning the shelves. Ford had been reading something at the Sanditon, a book of poetry she thought she would recognise if she saw it again (and it felt mildly useful to learn a little about the things he liked). She hadn’t found it yet, but the door opening behind her made her jump out of her skin.

It was Clementine. “Oh – sorry – I was just looking for something to read,” Jemima explained quickly, although Clementine hadn’t so much as asked yet and she was sure she hadn’t been doing anything wrong, besides. Still, she turned away from the bookshelves just to gauge whether Clementine wanted possession of the room and preferred her gone. (Jemima would have been perfectly happy to cede the space to a dormouse if it had thought her a nuisance.)
Clementine Greengrass/Aldous Crouch


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   Fortitude Greengrass

#2
Bride and groom were home now, and Clementine was doing a very good imitation of someone who felt altogether pushed aside in her own house if only to avoid seeing her brother cast in any sort of romantic role. She was Perfectly Pleasant™, of course, but spent little time outside of meals in the common areas of the home, and found as many opportunities to spend time out and about with friends as possible. This latter had been hindered slightly, though, by the stain that the new addition to the family had brought with her when she moved in.

Jemima Greengrass was, to Clementine, a conundrum. She was no longer Miss Farley, that much was clear to all involved parties, but she had never been close enough with the older girl to call her by her given name, and Mrs. Greengrass was both painfully formal and also her Mama's name. And so, she was still Miss Farley much of the time in Clementine's thoughts (and diary), and nothing at all as much as it could be helped out loud.

The Greengrass household was clearly a den of love and togetherness.

She had sat down at the small writing desk in her bedroom to respond to Hermia's letter, only to realize she had left it in the parlour. Resolved, she descended the stairs and listened at the door. Satisfied that no one was in there (and thus, she was unlikely to be roped into conversation), Clementine entered the room only to see that it actually was occupied by her nameless new housemate.

"Oh," she said lamely. After a beat, Clementine added, "you needn't apologize. After all, it is your house now."
Jemima Greengrass


The following 2 users Like Clementine Greengrass's post:
   Fortitude Greengrass, Jemima Greengrass


set by mj
#3
She had known Clementine the best of the Greengrasses previously (which did not say much, really, because they had been fellow Hufflepuffs more than bosom friends) but Jemima had seen startlingly little of her in the last few days. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should it be a relief, or did it make things more concerning?

But she had been civil thus far (for all of ten seconds), so that was – good. Maybe. Jemima tried not to flush at your house. “Well, yes, but – you have lived it in longer,” she returned, just as lamely. “And I don’t want to be in your way. I’m still finding my way around.” She had said so with a peaceable smile, but she regretted it, for it wasn’t a particularly clever statement: not funny enough to be a joke, and (as Ford had technically warned her) the Bartonburg house was hardly big enough for that to be true unless one was very directionally challenged.




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