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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.
sobbing alone in front of a haunted piano

nothing gold can stay
10 October 1891 — Ministry of Magic Atrium

It wasn't even a day she had to work - she'd requested the day off and ended up at work anyways, which seemed entirely stupid to do. The Atrium had always been one of Rowan's favorite parts of the day. The constant bustling in the atrium made it seem like the days slipped by seamlessly. She was content to sit there for hours if she could. Sometimes after a shift, if she was particularly tired, she would sit down and watch as people walked by, to and fro, from point a to point b. It was calming in a way, knowing that others had lives and troubles and that it wouldn't be every day that the whole world seemed to press down on her.

Today was one of those days. Rowan sat on the edge of the room, listening to the click of heels walking by and staring at the piece of paper in her hands.

Dear Sir or Madam;

I, Rowan Lorelai Yaxley, hereby resign from my position as Employee of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes effective immediately.


Rowan L. Yaxley

She could have burned a hole in the edge from how tightly she was gripping the piece of paper. She pressed her lips together, looking up for the umpteenth time to watch the Ministry employees walk by before looking back down. It hadn't been an easy decision to make, nor was she sure of its finality. From the past two major catastrophes she'd experienced — one when she was on the job and another when she was not; both which she'd experienced with Raphael Malfoy of all people — she had nearly died. And between those two incidents, she'd taken a dunk in the Black Lake flying with Dorian Fisk!

One could hardly be in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes if they were the ones putting themselves and civilians at such risk. But perhaps she'd not kept her head on straight for either of those. In all of the chaos and terror she'd felt in those moments, aside from being at risk for developing a genuine fear of water, one thing that seemed imprinted in her mind was the memory of the end; being so close to Malfoy she'd been able to feel his breath on her bare neck.

Even as she sat there, Rowan shook herself, her head jerking to the side as if she expected him to have appeared right next to her. But it wasn't him who had sat down next to her, and she quickly turned her letter over in her lap before smiling. "Ah." She said, swallowing the urge to bolt. "What brings you here?"
open to 1 ministry employee who would at least have interacted with Rowan enough for them to know each other!
With the exception of a limited three day affair with a dancer, Dorian had hit a disappointing lull this year. He'd picked up extra shifts during the freak hurricane aftermath, working nearly around the clock to undo and identify the magic that had caused the chaos. (He hadn't been the one to find it, much to his everlasting disappointment.) But, now that the season was ending and the children were in school, there was little if any work to be done.

He'd thought to sneak away early. Hatchitt was getting married in a few weeks and would be out of the office for some time, after all. If Dory was going to be working even harder he might as well have an afternoon of strolling through the park. Perhaps he'd even run into Miss Potts again, not that anything but profuse apologies had come from their limited interactions. He needed something — a pick me up or a change. Anything to liven up his life again.

The familiar back of Rowan caught his eye on his way out. He'd grabbed an apple from the counter and sat rather noisily besides her, though had somehow still managed to startle her. "Shift ended, I was just heading home. You on your lunch? It's a bit late for that." Dory replied casually, eyeing her and the tightly held letter. "Are you alright?"
Damn. She'd prayed it was really anyone else but Dory. Dory, one of her best friend's brothers, who likely knew her better than any of her other co-workers aside from Zelda and Delight. She knew her decision to leave was made hastily and she feared handing the letter to her boss. But if anything, Rowan feared those close to her finding out and judging her more. She hadn't ever been a quitter and had always worked hard to ensure she got good marks to get her into a good job. But the past few catastrophes she'd been in had given her serious pause. The question she was not willing to ask herself was if she wanted someone to talk her out of it before she did something she may regret.

All of these thoughts flashed across Rowan's face as she stared at Dory. Mercifully she'd managed to hang on to what he'd told her about finishing his shift, and she did her best to arrange her features in such a way that meant she was also 'just heading home'. Liar. Was it that late already? How long had she been sitting here in the Atrium for Dory to have finished his shift?

At the mention of the letter, she nearly dropped it as if she'd been scalded. Instead, she immediately - and regrettably - crumpled it up in her hand. Damn. She'd have to write another one at her desk later. "I'm quite alright!" She said in a lively tone, though her eyes didn't match her voice one bit. "Just sitting here having a bit of a rest before I head home too." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth.

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