July 17th, 1893 — Carrow Estate, Bath

The panic in Rory’s chest refused to assuage even as he held the note crumpled to high hell in his fist and shoved his arms through a jumper. He wasn’t even sure if it was his jumper, he just knew he needed clothes on fast and to get back home. Now.

The owl had come tapping in the wee hours of morning before the sun had even come up properly. At first, the clicking against the window had been an irritant he’d managed to sleep though. With one arm draped over Bellamy's chest, Rory just turned away and tried to ignore it. The owl was having none of that however, so he started scratching at the glass with his claws making a horrendous sound. That had earned him a sleepy whine from his bedmate who nudged him gently in the ribs. “Carrow, that’s definitely for you,” Bellamy mumbled. How they could be so sure, Rory didn’t bother to ask.

He’d dragged himself half asleep towards the window and the moment it was open, Elsie’s owl came hurtling into the room with a loud shriek. It tousled urgently at his hair before dropping a small scroll at his feet. That was Rory’s first indication that something was horribly wrong.

His heart jumped in his chest and he scrambled around in the dark for his wand so he could read it. The missive was short and not very helpful. Need help. Come home. Elsie. Or something akin to that; by now the parchment was so crumpled and smudged he was sure it was illegible. Still Rory did not release it, even as he tried in vain to shove himself into his trousers.

In a matter of minutes he was dressed - or at least dressed enough - that he’d moved on to shoving whatever he could find of his things in his trunk. He babbled something about an emergency and being needed at home and sending an owl when all was fine before he practically hurled himself into the Floo and landed back in Bath.

The house was eerily quiet for so early in the morning. Rory dropped his coat and trunk on the carpet in the sitting room where he’d tumbled out before rushing into the foyer and running up the spiral staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He was trying not to make a ruckus in case Elsie hadn’t wanted their other siblings - or Merlin forbid - their parents, to know, but his heart was beating a mile a minute. What could possibly have happened? And if she did want it to be a secret, bloody spirits he hoped and prayed it had nothing to do with a boy. He didn’t want to duel dressed like this but he would, if forced.

Knocking urgently on her door, Rory sucked in a breath. “Elsbeth?! Are you in there? Let me in!”

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Elsbeth Carrow & muse song <|3

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Elsie had gone about her day feeling relatively relieved. The events of last night and encountering the book had made her fear the worst - that something would manifest itself from her meddling and show up the next day. But after a careful inspection of herself in the mirror, the witch had found absolutely nothing amiss. No marks, no weird symbols, nor was she seeing anything she shouldn’t have.

No, for all intents and purposes, Elsbeth had seemingly escaped the repercussions of poking her nose where she shouldn’t have. It was why she woke up so cheerful the morning after, greeting her maid and nearly leaping out of bed to get ready for the morning as she drew the drapes open to let the light in. She had been prepared to have a typical morning, getting dressed and heading down to dinner when something caught the corner of her eye. It was ever so slight as her arm caught the light, but it was enough to make Elsie pause. It was a speck on the inside of her wrist. Had she somehow dropped a pendant and it had gotten stuck to her wrist while she slept?

Blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes, Elsbeth reached to turn the lamp on.

She wished she hadn’t.

Because the small speck seemed to grow right in front of her very eyes, blooming across her skin as if it was paint dripped onto a wet canvas. Elsie wiped at it, panic rising in her chest as she quickly realized it wouldn’t go away. And worse of all, the joint where this patch of - of gold had appeared immediately started to ache, as if the skin had started to stiffen.

Okay, there was no need to panic. She would simply look at the book again and consult it to see if something had gone amiss. There was no need to panic.

Then she caught a glimpse of her left arm; and let out a shriek.

There was a crash in the corner, reminding Elsie she wasn’t alone. Jia knocked over the water pitcher she’d been reaching for, whirling around to see what had happened. By then, Elsie had shoved her sleeves down to her wrists to hide anything. Her maid, was absolutely bewildered to be ushered out so quickly, and though was reassured that it wasn’t anything she had done personally, was only able to nod vigorously as Elsie commanded her to tell no one of this and to fetch her owl so she could send a message to the only person she could think of.

Jia brought back a rather grumpy and harrassed looking Dalnim, a beautiful barn owl with a moon-like face to fit his name. Once he saw Elsie, he hooted a greeting to her before flying over to his perch by her bedside. Elsie had already scribbled a note to Rory in haste before she tied it to his leg and practically pushed Dalnim and Jia out of her room, locking it so no one else could come in and sinking down to the floor, knees tucked to her chest while she waited for her brother.

She didn’t keep track of how long it took, nor did she reach for her sleeves to see how bad her left arm was. All she knew was that something was happening and she needed help now. She couldn’t panic. She couldn’t start crying, not unless she wanted to be near hysterical when Rory found her. No, she would wait and she would explain to him what happened.

Her plans changed, of course, when she heard hurried steps right outside her door and rapid knocking on the wood. She nearly gave a sob of relief when she heard her brother’s voice on the other side of the door and she reached up to the door knob to open it. “No one’s with you are they?” She asked, her voice already shaking as she peeked through the crack in the door.

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   Ambrose Carrow

The seconds it took for Elsie to answer where the longest moments of Rory’s life. His knocking never ceased, frantic and panicked as he was, and even as he called to her hushedly through the wood, he barely gave her time to respond before he was sucking in another breath to do it again. The door cracked suddenly and caught him unaware.

Warm brown eyes settled immediately on his sister’s face, searching, and Rory felt a rush of something — not quite relief but not quite fear — drift down his spine. She was alive, so at least there was that. “No, nobody’s with me,” he responded quickly to her query. “What’s happened?” The question was more of a demand driven by his anxiety than it was cautious but Rory didn’t have time for cautious. He spared only the faintest look over his shoulder before he was pushing the door open and brushing past his sister as he invited himself in.

(Ok, so it wasn’t the most gentlemanly, but there wasn’t time for manners in an emergency with family!)

On the other side of the door he pressed up against it quickly and let the thing snap shut behind him. Once again warm brown eyes looked her over once, twice — too quickly to really see anything — even as Rory remained glued to the door frame. “Elsie, what’s wrong?” The look on her face was enough to set his heart hammering again but he refrained from doing anything too rash just yet. There would be time for action, after explanation.

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Elsbeth Carrow & muse song <|3

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Even at his promise, which she trusted with her life, Elsie shook in her slippers at the prospect of someone else coming around the corner to see what she had to show her brother. She hesitated only for a moment before Rory pushed his way into her room. She’d have squeaked in protest had she not been so horrified at the state of her being. The witch skittered backwards, sliding her robe sleeves over her arms and lacing her hands behind her back. Thank the Lord the drapes were still partially shut.

Elsbeth shifted uneasily on her feet. Rory remained at the door, looking over her, seemingly satisfied there seemed to be nothing fatally wrong with her. But what would his reaction be once she showed him? Or even more horrifically - what if he couldn’t see what she saw? What if this was something she could only see, and she was committed to an insane asylum because of it?

She could see no way out.

“I - I was exploring the other night and I came across something. A - library of some sorts. And I eventually found my way into a small alcove, and I f-found a b-book…” She said, looking towards the book on her bed. “Well nothing seemed to be amiss but then I just woke up this morning and -”

With her hands shaking violently, Elsie slowly put them in front of her, moving to push up the sleeve of her left arm. It was riddled with small patches of gold, shining through clearly as day; if it were broad daylight, Elsie was sure her skin would be glinting. It burned. It ached.

A sob caught in her throat.

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   Ambrose Carrow

Rory could see the way his sister was trembling and the anxiety churning in his gut only made him more uneasy. He wanted desperately to reach out and hug her, comfort her, tell her everything would be alright - because he would make damn sure it would be - but he couldn’t until he knew what was going on. Forcing himself to keep quiet despite the thousands of questions that all wanted to come tripping out of his mouth, Rory clenched his hands in and out of fists behind his back.

Elsie said something then about exploring and for a moment Rory wanted to interrupt her and ask where. (And why, but the scolding could come later.) Was it something in this house? A neighbor’s? A friend’s? Then something about a book (his gaze followed hers to the bed where the offensive item lay) and then finally— the truth. Rory took a step closer as her arms came into view.

At first, he could see nothing wrong with them. Her little hands with slender, perfect pianist fingers seemed unchanged. He reached out to hold them and frowned. Then he saw it. Small patches of… what looked like metal or… gold? had formed and were glinting where her skin ought to be. Rory’s warm brown eyes widened. “What—?” He reached a gentle index finger as if to touch one of the patches and then didn’t, instead letting his hand linger just near. “Does it hurt?” was his first, most pressing question. Looking up at her and the tears welling behind her sweet face, Rory felt his heart stutter. Obviously it must, or the pain of being changed was too much for her— but somehow Rory doubted it. Elsbeth was strong. Stronger than most women he knew, certainly.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “We’ll fix it! I promise, we’ll fix it.” Another glance down at her arm and he tugged Elsie close, wrapping her in a hug but careful to avoid brushing against her— wounds. Rory had never been a stilted person, keeping others he cared about at arms length; it was inappropriate in all his cultures, he knew, but he didn’t care. “You’ll be back to normal in no time, Elsbeth. I swear.”

Sucking in a short breath, he released her and took a step back. His mind skipped into problem solving mode, immediately. “Do you still have the book? Where exactly were you exploring? Here or somewhere else?”

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Elsbeth Carrow & muse song <|3

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   Elsbeth Carrow

“Wait no, don’t touch it you might -” Elsie protested, but he had already pulled her into a hug, one that she was too familiar with and found too much comfort in to have the heart to push him away. She was enveloped by his scent, the comforting feel of his arms around her too great to not lean into. It was only when she started to sniffle that Elsie realized she was crying, which made her hug him tighter. Rory had always been like this, so quick to offer physical comfort when it just wasn’t in their parents nature to show their affection towards their children in that way.

Edmund and Rosaline Carrow did not hug or give out kisses. They gave the last of their food on their plate to their children, even if there was obviously food left on the table. They made sure their children had excellent schooling. They made sure each of their children did not want for anything.

But Elsie would be lying if she said she didn’t care for her brother’s hugs. No, they were her favorite.

She nearly collapsed into his arms, hearing him promise that everything would be okay. You’ll be back to normal in no time, Elsbeth. How? What were they to do? How long until this affliction took over her entire being? Would that mean she would just become a gold statue?

She tried not to blubber too much, but her fear was too great to dismiss behind a toss of her hair or a defiant tilt of her chin. “Here,” She responded as she withdrew, gingerly withdrawing her handkerchief. “I can’t remember anything after I found the items in the alcove. There was the book…and there was a cloak, I think? And I think I found a pair of eomeoni’s gloves.”

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   Ambrose Carrow

As his arms wrapped around his sister, any protest fell on deaf ears and Rory held her tightly to his frame. He didn’t care if he caught it too; his most pressing priority in that moment was to make sure Elsie knew that she wasn’t alone in this. That she was never, truly, alone. He could only imagine how terrible she must be feeling, and how scared. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions but it certainly didn’t seem like some simple little spell that bing, bang, boom, they could just reverse. Taking in a deep breath of his own, he stepped back and nodded at her subsequent explanation.

The book. He needed to see the book.

Striding over to the bed where the book still lay, somewhat open, he pulled out his wand. The page it was flipped to was blank and Rory turned a few of them with the tip of his wand, unwilling to touch it. Nothing happened. He muttered a soft spell then that lifted the book off the mattress and closed it. “How strange,” he mumbled to himself. Then, turning back to his sister, Rory offered her a braver smile than he perhaps felt. “We should probably have someone with a specialty in curses or dark objects take a look at this,” he suggested lightly, gesturing to the still hovering book by his side. He didn’t know if Elsbeth was going to love that idea, and perhaps it wasn’t as serious as a curse but it was better to know. For now, he debated taking her to a healer.

“How are you feeling?” he asked again. “Does it hurt?” Did she need tea or food or medicine? Was she tired? These questions and more tried to sprawl themselves across his face but Rory held firm to his calm demeanor. He could spiral later when she was under specialized supervision. The idea of keeping the subtleties of such a thing under wraps had not occurred to him though. His only priority was fixing the problem as quickly as possible.

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Elsbeth Carrow & muse song <|3

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Even as her brother pulled out his wand, Elsie wanted to launch herself at him, tug him away and tell him to not go near it. What if it wasn’t her touching it that had laid the curse upon her? She bit her lip, hands clasped together as she watched him. There was a band around her chest that kept getting tighter rand tighter as she watched her beloved sibling get nearer and nearer to her bed. She flinched when the book was lifted off the bed; there had been something…unnatural about the book, she remembered. Like it had been alive when she touched it, that it had a conscience.

But underneath the anxiety that had settled like a boulder upon her shoulders, she was glad that Ambrose was here. He always held an optimistic quality about him, one that Elsie often held onto when she was feeling on the morose side. And while she always appreciated that when she was feeling down, she clung onto that relief more than ever before like a life raft.

A specialist - yes, of course they would need to take it to a specialist. But despite the increasing assuagement, Elsbeth knew the social repercussions of such a visit to a local specialist might make themselves known. She didn’t have the heart to shoot this option down quite yet; she could see the lines of guilt in her brother’s expression already, ones that she wanted to make disappear. It wasn’t his fault she’d been foolish; it was no one’s but her own.

“I’m feeling…alright,” She responded, her voice tenuous. She held her hands out in front of her, looking down. “It…it stings, I think.” It felt as if her skin were tight, stretching its limits, burning slightly at the edges. And her skin ached where the metal had taken over, as if there were a stiffness injected into her joints.