Welcome to Charming
Welcome to Charming, the year is now 1891. 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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As clocks and other timepieces were expensive, working class folk who could not afford to rise with the sun could employ a “knocker-upper” to tap on their windowpane at a scheduled time. Knocker-uppers would work through the night and into the early morning. — Kayte
But then Miss Dempsey paid her so great a compliment that she wanted to hurl herself over the edge of the theater balcony in delight.
sobing alone in front of a haunted piano

And you, my father, there on the sad height
April 20th, 1891 — Some unused classroom

Elon didn’t expect to bury his father while he was still at school. His father had always been in prime health, so it had seemed that he would die and leave all the responsibilities tied to the Wildsmith name when Elon was much older. No one could have predicted that he would be lost at sea, leaving Elon as the “head” of the family at sixteen.

His mother had inherited back her money and Judith had also received a generous amount. The family’s solicitor would also be there for Elon, like he had been for their father, regarding the handling of the business. By all means, Elon could enjoy his two final years at Hogwarts, and not have to worry about his responsibilities as the Wildsmith heir until 1893.

And yet, he had been thinking, especially while he watched his father’s casket lower to the ground, whether there was any meaning to him continuing at Hogwarts, when his fate was sealed. What meaning was there to anything, really.

He’d felt numbness throughout all of the ceremony. Everyone from his family was like that, they’d never been the expressive types. And he’d returned to Hogwarts feeling somewhat numb.

He’d thought to bring one of the good liquors from home to meet his friends at one of their hidden classrooms. He’d been spared from that day's classes, so he was still wearing his mourning clothes.

“Hey,” he greeted his friends when they arrived.

@Venusia Crickerly @Elijah Urquart

Elijah hadn't known what to say to Elon. The Slytherin was fabulous for sarcastic comments, sensational for dry humour, and spot on when it came to Rich Boy Nonsense, but emotion—at least talking about it—was somewhere the wizard fell entirely short. He was glad, really, that this had happened during term; it gave him a good excuse not to actually attend the funeral, not to be there for the Ravenclaw who was, ostensibly, his best friend.

But now Elon was back at school, and even though Elijah wasn't sure how to be there for his friend, he knew that he should be.

On entering the classroom, he flashed the other boy a quick smile, hoping Crick would do most of the heavy lifting here. After all, wasn't that what girls were for?
The following 1 user Likes Elijah Urquart's post:
   Elon Wildsmith

Elijah has heterochromia. His right eye is green and his left is blue.

MJ is a graphics goddess ❤ —
As she knew both of her closest friends and their personalities fairly well, Crick had a strong sense that she would have to do most of the emotional heavy lifting for this conversation. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea what to say — she was sorry that Elon's parents had died, but that didn't cover it, and nothing in her life so far had prepared her for this level of tragedy. Sure, she'd been alive for the laughing plague, but she had been nine and lived in the country and missed most of it. Now this was a real tragedy and she knew people whose parents died right now, and nothing had prepared her for being properly supportive through this.

"Hi Elon," Venusia said, because that seemed like a good place to start. "I'm sorry we couldn't be there." She — wasn't, really, because she didn't know how to handle funerals either, but this seemed like the thing to say. She could stumble her way through this. Hopefully Elijah would be more helpful soon, too.

The following 2 users Like Venusia Crickerly's post:
   Elon Wildsmith, Fitzroy Prewett
Like his friends, Elon was also out of tune with his emotions. His face was stoic and he felt quite empty on the inside, too. He didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t happy exactly, but he didn’t feel like screaming or crying either. He hadn’t been close to his father. First there was the large age gap between them and then there was the aloofness that his father had. The truth was that Elon would have been more devastated if their old butler died, as cliched as that was.

“It’s alright,” Elon assured his friends with a shrug. The funeral had been a cold and mundane affair. All three Wildsmith had been stoic and stony. His sister had seemed more upset to hear he inherited almost everything.

“You can drink with me,” he said as he finally revealed the bottle of expensive Bourbon he’d smuggled from home. “I suppose I may become an alcoholic now. Do opium to drown my pain and such.”

"That seems like rather a waste of one's inheritance," Elijah remarked drily even as he reached for the bottle.
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   Venusia Crickerly

Elijah has heterochromia. His right eye is green and his left is blue.

MJ is a graphics goddess ❤ —
Everything Elon said had Venusia more concerned, although she was trying not to show it. She made an impatient gesture for Elijah to hand her the bottle when he was done with it. "I'm going to have to agree with Elijah," she said, "Not just a waste of your inheritance, but a waste of your intelligence as well."

“Everything I’ve ever done has been wasteful!” Elon remarked with a quiet, through overdramatic tone. “I’m a failure.” It was a dramatic statement to make, given that he was only sixteen so he hadn’t had the chance to prove himself. Elon felt like he ought to do something great, being a Wildsmith. A quiet, mediocre life would be a waste of all the resources he’d been given.

Elijah gave a small snort.

"Wasteful and frivolous are hardly one in the same," he remarked wisely. "Youthful indiscretion, I think, should fall into the latter."

Elijah has heterochromia. His right eye is green and his left is blue.

MJ is a graphics goddess ❤ —
"And if you die now you'll never get to prove your worth," Venusia pointed out; helpful, but not very sympathetic.

“Why, I may become a ghost and open a hotel,” Elon commented trying to sound solemn but cracking up a smile nonetheless. As far as he knew, H-something Fudge had always been a ghost.

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