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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During the Victorian era, knitting became a staple of a well-bred woman. Queen Victoria is even reported to have been a fan of knitting herself. It was during this time that knitting wasn’t just restricted to plain yarn fabrics, but changed to involve bead and lace knitting. — Fallin
Yuri didn't know what being a steamed patron was but it sounded like it might be painful.
Anyway, Here's Wonderwall

September 4th, 1891 — Fox & Son, Knockturn Alley, London
Coming into the family place of business had held a certain gloomy element in the few months following the death of Simeon. He had been the only father figure that Florence could remember and shaped much of her life and the woman she had become. Even so, she did have to come to the shop every now and then, even if it was just to drop off a basket of food and drink for Jay and the others. In her current position, she was often able to procure such delights.

This time around, she had some trinkets to add to the shops inventory, lifted from various socialites at a party she had been taken to. "Jay, are you here?" She called out as she placed the basket of food on the counter along with the purse full of obtained jewelry.

@Jay Fox / @Elias Grimstone
The shop was closed; the voice inside made him startle, though he could tell it was only Florence. Ever since Fox’s death, though – murder, he was convinced, though they had not found the culprit – Jay had been a far cry from trusting anyone.

Even his family. No, that was not true: he may not trust Simeon’s (real) son, but he never had; and the others were the only people left he had, the ones he had to protect. If not for Florence and Imogen, Eli and Hestia – well, Jay might have disappeared one night and never come home.

But he couldn’t leave them behind. Business was bad enough without Fox to steer it, and Jay was doing more of it, more than just the accounts now, the parts of the work he’d never liked; he wasn’t sleeping well, rarely remembered to eat if he was left alone long enough. (The Ivy Leaf was like a dream place, somewhere that existed a little beyond his life and the limits of it.)

“I’m here,” he said quietly, traipsing up from the storeroom below and fully aware that he looked terrible – dark circles under his eyes, tousled hair from a night and a day spent not sleeping, the faintest tremor in his hand from the kind of spell-casting he didn’t like to do. The last wasn’t helping him much now, as he worked on forging the authentication for some artifact, so maybe it was a blessing Florence was here, a well-timed distraction.

So he tried to smooth himself out, soften into a smile to greet his sister, but he didn’t manage to meet her eyes; instead, Jay moved immediately to the counter and the purse, easing open the drawstring without another word.

[Image: 4PrLtDw.png]
Florence eyed the man in front of her with a furrowed brow. He looked terrible and like he had not slept a wink in days. "You know if you need help with things here, just tell me." She had always been used as the distraction. The pretty face that kept the marks eyes on her while they picked them clean. But she thought she could learn more if Jay showed her what to do.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" She asked as she played with a sickle as he opened the purse to check the contents. Was their little family falling apart without their patriarch of sorts? Merlin, she hoped not.

Florence thought he needed help. “I’ve got it under control,” Jay said curtly, inspecting a brooch determinedly as he felt her regard him. He squeezed his eyes shut, aware that that was as close to snapping as he usually came, and that she didn’t deserve that. She had brought food, and done her part, and what she did, she did well, but – she didn’t need to get involved with any more of it.

There was not a lot of security in this kind of life on the edges, but Jay would protect who he could.

And she had a good life, or, at least on the surface, a comfortable one. He wouldn’t endanger that just because he couldn’t cope here. His gaze flickered upwards in apology. “You do enough as it is,” he amended quietly, though there was a foundation of firmness to it, as if he were worried she was going to insist. “I’m – tired. That’s all. How are you?” He set the brooch aside on the counter and rummaged in the purse for the next.

[Image: 4PrLtDw.png]
Florence rose an eyebrow in response to Jay's curt response. That was as close to snapping as he ever got which only served to make her worry more. Mixed with a light dose of 'speak to me like that again and I'll hex your behind with boils'. Her concern for him was not assuaged by the claim that he was just tired.

"I'm as I usually am. Nicking baubles from the men who are charmed by me. Fencing them here," she said with a shrug. "How do you think the younger ones are?" She felt like she had not seen Imogen, Eli or even Hestia in ages. The moments sporadic since the death of their leader.

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