April 3rd, 1895 - edge of Knockturn Alley

The weather, Jo has long come to understand, is the same no matter what side of the coin someone lands on; if it was dreary and raining and foggy in muggle London, then it was dreary and raining and foggy in magical London. (And didn’t England love her dreary, foggy days full of rain?)

Cutting through Knockturn Alley, while one of the faster ways to get home and out of the weather, was not a choice many would make; it would undoubtedly be a dangerous venture for most, let alone a woman... but she'd never had much trouble. Not Joni, who towered over the common bloke on the daily; she, apparently, cut enough of an intimidating figure to avoid being accosted (especially, she supposed, with her the hood of her old cloak pulled up all ominous-like).

As she sloshed through a puddle that dank evening, her damp shoes slapping wetly against the aging cobblestone as she turned a corner, it was a combination of the rainfall and her damp, droopy hood that she partially tripped over something. Her palm scrapped against the brick wall as she caught herself, instinctive curiosity getting the better of her as she glanced down over her shoulder.

Well, not something then: someone.

Turning back around, she hesitantly crouched down next to the slumped lump of a person. Were they… dead? This was Knockturn alley, after all…

Carefully (gently), she clasped a shoulder and gave it a shake once, twice – just to see.

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Joni speaks with a slight Georgian accent

Oh, she should have brought in a partner for this one.

The confundus charm had her addled, and she knew she couldn't apparate like that, so Ivy took off at a run — shoes pounding against the cobblestones in the same rapid rhythm as her head throbbed. Once she no longer heard the sound of the dark wizard's footsteps behind her, she stopped to throw up in an alley, and stumbled forwards until she reached the wall.

She leaned against it, sinking until she was squatting, and then sitting on the floor. Ivy wasn't sure that it had just been a confundus charm — she felt terrible, out of control, her hands numbing — but there was nothing to be done for it now. She would stay here until she regained enough of herself to stumble to the hospital, and —

she started at the shake of her shoulder. Despite her state, Ivy couldn't help but yelp at the large figure.

  

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set by MJ

The yelp was a touch uncalled for, but Joni didn’t let it bother her for much longer than a heartbeat; pulling her ratty hood back to release the mass of curls on her head and reveal her face, she beamed instead. There was no need - or time - to be scared, not if this poor lady was injured.

"Alive then – good!" As the woman’s startle stirred the air about them, Joni couldn't resist crinkling her nose: it – or rather, this stranger – smelled freshly of spewed dinner. Maybe not so good...

She kept her grin despite the stench, and then began to untie the unorthodox, hand-made mess that was her cloak from about her broad shoulders.

"Take deep breaths," she advised gently, rain starting to flatten her hair to the nape of her neck and face in wisps before trickling visibly down her face, "Help is here, yes? Yes."

Without further adieu, Jo draped the cloak over the little lady. The cloak (or, at least, an attempt at one) was more of patchwork of various, well-worn pieces of cloth, all sewn together to make a truly massive piece of clothing – obviously made to cover the equally large woman’s figure; to say it swallowed up the tiny Englishwoman would’ve been an understatement.

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Joni speaks with a slight Georgian accent

The woman — it took Ivy a moment to determine that she was a woman — was huge. She took deep breaths, half to get over the strangeness of the encounter and have to try to gain her bearings. The cloak helped, although Ivy did not want to admit it. She felt swallowed-whole by it, as if in the belly of a whale, as if a child — comforted.

Her mouth was dry.

"Took a hex," Ivy slurred, the words spilling from her mouth.

  

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set by MJ