2 January 1895 - Padmore Park Winter Fair

Padmore Park was finally reopened, and it had seemed to have attracted a large crowd of people who were ready to see what it looked like now that the sinkhole had been filled. Delilah would be lying if she were to say that’s why she hadn’t come, although looking around, the park looked exactly how it had prior to the incident, down to the way the paths weaved and the water from the lake rolled against the shores.

Change wasn’t a terrible thing though, and Delilah herself had things she wished to effectuate now that the new year had been ushered in, such as making new friends and focusing on herself more now that Jemima was married. She loved her children more than anything but sometimes loneliness crept up on her. Well, Lila would just have to put herself out there more. It was one the reasons she was at Padmore Park for its grand reopening, watching the snow sculpture competition; Delilah didn’t have a creative bone in her body, but it was interesting to watch, at least.

Others were around her as well, curious eyes watching as they tried to determine what the shapes were going to be turned into. Lila had just started to guess that the sculpture that looked the most impressive to her might be a dragon when a sharp crack broke through the cold air; a rogue spell must have shot from one of the competitor’s wand, hitting a large pile of snow in front of them.

At first nothing happened, but then the snow thinned and spread out, creating a very slick surface just beneath the crowd’s feet. Delilah’s hands shot out to steady herself because she definitely didn’t wish to fall flat on her butt, although a second later she felt her balance wobble. On instinct she grabbed at the person next to her as her feet slipped out from beneath her – when Lila said she desired to make new friends, she certainly hadn’t meant this way.

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Philomen was naturally curious to see Padmore Park now that it had reopened, though aside from the new botanical gardens--which he'd already taken a tour of since it was the new thing==the park looked much the same to him as it had on occasions he'd visited before the summer. Though he supposed that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He'd joined the crowd of onlookers for the sculpture competition. He didn't consider himself particularly creative, but he was as much an enjoyer of art as the next person.

He was less an enjoyer of spell mishaps, but at least he managed to hold his ground somewhat as the ground turned slick with ice beneath him. Phil thought he just needed to move very carefully--

This was, of course, the last thought he had before being knocked off his feet by the woman next to him--who he only recognized as Mrs. Warbeck as he landed half on top of her with an "Oof!" before rolling and sliding off to the side to spare them both some dignity. Such as it was.

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   Delilah Warbeck

Delilah felt her world spin for a moment as she collided with the ground, a second later half-crushed beneath the man she had grabbed onto for some semblance of balance, although he was quick to roll off her. She laid there for a second, staring up at the sky before she finally felt her world focus, allowing her to sit up with as much dignity as one could muster on a slicked surface. Padmore Park must be cursed, although a fall on ice could have been much worse.

She turned toward the man, Mr. Huxley, and offered him a small smile. At least it hadn’t been a complete stranger she had dragged down with her. “Are you alright?” Lila asked him, her own fingers flexing against the ice. The fall hadn’t been bad enough to break anything. She glanced in the direction of the sculptors, although none of them seemed entirely concerned about the damage they’d just caused.

Delilah huffed. “I do hope their sculpture is worth the trouble.”

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Philomen Huxley

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"I think so," Phil huffed, half-amused as he tried to push himself up without scrabbling at the ice. It was... less than successful. "Are you?" He looked around, then made another attempt, this time getting to his knees. "I've heard of suffering for art, but I thought they were talking about the artists doing that."

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Well, at least they were both healers so if something was broken between they had enough experience to fix it. (Though it would be better if the injuries had anything to do with their respective floors.) Lila's lips curled into a smile then. Watching him try to fully stand made her want to remain seated, although as Mr. Huxley came to his knees, Delilah sat up, too. "I'm fine, unless you count my pride, which has taken a very serious beating."

Delilah huffed a quiet laugh, shaking some snow and dirt that had gotten in her curls before she turned her attention toward him. "Well, I suppose we can count this as hands on experience for knowing how an artist suffers for their work," she mused, "because if I'm being honest, sometimes they are the neediest of patients when they come in." Sometimes they fought over who had to deal with particular ones, although being the head of the unit, Lila usually winded up dealing with them.

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"I confess I'm lacking in artistic talent," Phil mused. "So I'll count this as a chance to increase my ability to empathize." If he could joke about it, it was probably a good sign of no lasting damage, regardless. "They should put up signs: 'Warning: Artists at work.'"

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Delilah let out a laugh, one much louder than she intended but it was too late to take it back now - she wasn't any good at art either. There was a reason she was a healer, and most of the reasoning was because she was pretty damn good at it. ”Oh, they absolutely should. Wouldn't want any more innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire.” The last thing someone needed to decide was to have healers on hand at an ice sculpture festival.

She tipped her head like she was deciding what to say before she eyed Mr. Huxley with mock seriousness. “Although, if you ever decide to leave St. Mungo's so you can embrace the artistic struggle, I promise not to laugh. Much.”

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"Ah, you've discovered my secret passion," Phil joked. "I've always said, the trouble with healing is it is too stable a career. It's its greatest down side." He chuckled. His joke might have been especially ironic, considering he'd entered the Magical Bugs ward immediately following the summer of the Laughing Plague.

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Delilah gave him a sideways glance, although her lips curled into a smile. “It’s terrible having a steady income and career growth. I don’t know why there are so many of us.” She remembered walking into St. Mungo’s for the first time and being a bit overwhelmed about how large it was. She remained because she liked being paid to deal with plants, which were one of her real passions; they potions weren’t terrible either.

Lila laughed quietly as she shook her head. “Though I suppose I should’ve known you were in it for the thrill and not the stability. That, or you’re in it for the the robes.” Not that the robes were anything fancy, but they were something she was proud to wear.

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