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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.

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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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Revenge is a Dish Best Served Floral
April 8th, 1894 - Wildflowers

Twenty-four hours. She had been home for twenty-four hours and this is what she came back to! The shop had been in her mother's very capable hands while she was away and so it was in pristine condition, which Daff expected no less, but to read this garbage less than halfway through her first day back as beyond infuriating. It was not often, rare even, for her to get this riled up about something but for Witch Weekly to continue to drag her poor sister and the Greengrasses through the mud was something Daff had never thought she would read! The rumor mill was bad enough, but for it to be put into print! If she had a subscription, she would have cancelled it immediately, no matter how flattering a portrait they painted of her.

And so Daffodil stalked back to the greenhouse, wand out and whipping around, summoning her revenge fodder with ease while she muttered under her breath about people needing to mind their own business. She was not naturally good at these things, but she was Laurel Potts' daughter and she knew very well how to say fuck you in flowers.

Yellow, lots of yellow. One of her favorite colors and therefore a delightful detail in her desire to give them a piece of her mind without expressly doing and putting it to words. Daff started with a base of yellow carnations, another lovely perk; her favorite flowers could so very well say what she wanted to start with; disdain and disappointment. She then pulled a few stalks of lavender (sorrow) from their bucket, and despite inhaling the normally calming scent, she was too angry to let it work its magic. She stuck them in, taller than the carnations and therefore adding some more character to the bouquet. It would say what she wanted it to, but it would still be lovely; because Daff could be both petty and pretty. The dichotomy of the purple and yellow was very springy and typically not a color combination she got to do too often. Purple hyacinths came next, distrust clear in their proud placements.

The tansy was the most straightforward of the bunch, dotted in around the edges; there was no alternative meaning, no misreading the declaration of war on the gossip rag. For good measure she added some borage, careful to use her wand and not her ungloved hands lest she get jabbed with the prickly hairs and earn herself a nasty rash in the process.

She was huffing and puffing, mostly from being fired up and less from he exertion of making the bouquet. Daff stepped back to admire her work and a spark of inspiration struck her. She plucked a lone daffodil from a nearby bucket, enlarged it and stuck it right in the center. There would be no doubt about where it came from. "Take that." She said triumphantly to herself, brushing her hair from her face, without realizing there was someone standing in the doorway of the greenhouse from the shop surveying her madness.

The following 3 users Like Daffodil Grimstone's post:
   Elias Grimstone, Gus Lissington, Noble Greengrass

[Image: Daff-Sig-Spring24.png]
It had been nearly two weeks since Ford had determined he ought to buy his wife flowers for her bedroom and he was only now getting to the flower shop... but in his defense he had never been married before, and it turned out the day-to-day attentions, balanced against everything else he had to consider day to day, weren't something that came easily to him. Perhaps if he had been properly in love with her it might have been different — but he had never lived with a lover before, so maybe not. Even in the weeks leading up to his wedding day, where he'd been trying to see Tycho as often as possible, Ford had find himself surprised more than once when Tycho engaged in some romantic gesture and Ford had nothing to reciprocate with. Maybe he just wasn't a very thoughtful person, when it came down to it — or maybe being thoughtful was a skill that needed to be learned and practiced, rather than a character trait one either had or didn't.

Well, better late than never he'd determined, and headed to Wildflowers... where he seemed to have surprised Miss Potts (or Mrs. Grimstone, he internally corrected himself) in the midst of another project. One she seemed quite worked up about— he had the distinct feeling that he was intruding, even though it was only a bouquet and she had no reasonable expectation of privacy in a shop during its open business hours.

"Ah... custom order?" he asked, nodding towards the yellow and purple flowers.

Set by Lady!
The voice at the door startled her and Daff visibly jumped. She must have forgotten to close the curtain next to the till that led to the greenhouse. Typically customers didn't come back here without supervision, but as she was here and it was just Fortitude, Daff supposed it wasn't a big deal. She hadn't seen anyone in the Greengrass family since their wedding, except for the seamstress cousin to had cleaned up and changed her wedding gown color, so this was a bit of a surprise. Of course Fortitude didn't know her own wedding had closed and locked a door between them in every respect.

Passing him a wry smile, she chuckled. "Ah, of sorts." Daff brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She wasn't sure she should tell him what it was for, considering she had put it together partly on his behalf? It all seemed a little too personal to share, given that Fortitude also didn't know they were more connected that he could imagine. "Was there something I could do for you?" Daff briefly worried that he might be here about their wedding flowers, but she and Noble had settled that easily enough.

"How is Mrs. Greengrass?" The concept of that title felt foreign on her tongue; had always thought that would be her future, and while she did sport the Mrs. part now, it most certainly wasn't followed by Greengrass. It was odd to her, when these sorts of thoughts struck her, that it wasn't nearly as painful as it used to be. It just came in a short wave of nostalgia, before she was able to refocus. Idly she toyed with her wedding band, spinning the ring as a comfort mechanism, thinking about how she as going to tell Elias all about this bouquet later tonight over dinner.

[Image: Daff-Sig-Spring24.png]

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