Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete five threads of five posts or more where your character experiences bad luck, such as stepping in a chamberpot, losing the rings for a wedding, etc...
Did You Know?
One of the cheapest homeless shelters in Victorian London charged four pennies to sleep in a coffin. Which was... still better than sleeping upright against a rope? — Jordan / Lynn
If he was being completely honest, the situation didn't look good, but Sylvano was not in the habit of being completely honest about anything. No reason to start now.
— Sylvano Capobiancoinyou & me & the war of the endtimes
She'd been fully home, after a day of travel for only a few days now. She'd only managed to stay at the house for one night before it became something she knew she couldn't handle and so after a lengthy discussion with Alvin and his help, she'd been able to relocate herself to the bunks at the zoo. Nobody had used them in a while, but they had a cozy little outbuilding for when Mr. Podmore's foreign magizoologist friends came and needed a place to stay. It was fine. Perfect, even. She was the only one there, it was quiet, she was alone with her thoughts (and Bram of course). She could take in the zoo at night and nobody had bothered her.
Of course it helped that she'd gone back to sporting the blonde hair of Sadie instead of her natural brown. Anything she could do to avoid anyone really knowing she was home.
She spent her time back in her usual habits and jobs; walking Stephen, reading with Bertram, helping in the aviary. It was the latter she was doing now, the two of them nestled in his enclosure, Sloane tucked into his fuzzy side comfortably as they read some Edgar Allen Poe story about a heart. It wasn't usually what Sloane liked to read, but it unironically fit the mood she was in and Bertram was loving it.
They'd finished a few chapters and Sloane didn't realize she was visible from the outside of Bertram's enclosure when she heard a gentle knock on the glass. It startled her enough for her to look over her arachnid pillow to find one of the last people she expected to see and the person she'd been purposefully avoiding. Seeing Lester on the other side of the glass had her heartrate soaring in anxiety and she had to wonder if there was any graceful way to escape this encounter she desperately didn't want to have.
It was fairly easy to come to the conclusion that Sloane was avoiding him, because before she left for her adventure she would have been in the Hatchitt house within twelve hours of her return from her trip. Now — she'd made no appearances, and it was only through his mother (and Fiona Bixby) that he found out she was home, but not, and at the zoo.
He was going to have to go find her. He was a little disgruntled about it, admittedly, had spent most of the morning off sighing around at home until his mother practically kicked him out.
So he went to the zoo and wandered until he reached the acromantula enclosure, looked over, and saw Sloane reading to the creature. He leaned against the glass until she noticed him. "I'm sorry I didn't write," Lester said, once he caught her looking at him, "I had a concussion."
Also, he'd been more than a little upset with her, and had wanted to wait until he could contain it. But he was still upset, and now she was avoiding him, so — no more waiting.
She hated that her first instinct was the panic at the rising anxiety in her chest. This was not how this was supposed to go. It wasn't supposed to happen at all. Sloane was supposed to successfully avoid him until she left again and never came back.
Sinking lower against Bertram, she purposefully ignored his most unhelpful suggestion; "I can eat him, if you like." Whispered like a plausible threat. Sloane, exasperated as she was, managed a weak chuckle mixed with a sigh. She'd rather be swallowed up by the ground. "No, thank you." She hissed back, closing the book in her hands with a snap as she stood.
Hopefully she could just make this quick and be done with it. "It's alright, I hope you're feeling better." She called, moving toward the back entrance the enclosure. Bertram didn't even look up, all of his eyes closed, but if spiders could smile, he definitely was. Ugh. "I've got mooncalves to feed." She added after a second, scooting out the back, locking up the enclosure and hurrying down the hallway that would hopefully let her escape. It crossed her mind to change her appearance, she had enough control back to keep it blonde, but it would be hard given that she was wearing a sun-worn blouse and traveling bloomers and they would stand out.
Lester exhaled a soft sigh under his breath as Sloane walked away from him and the acromantula. He made a mental note of the clothes she was wearing — if she really wanted to avoid him he was going to have to be able to recognize her with a different face and hair — and skittered around to the other side of the enclosure, where the hallway would let out. (Fortunately for him, he'd been led around here by Sloane enough times to have a generally good sense of where things went.)
He waited at the end of the hallway with his hands in his pockets.
There could be no small victory here. He wouldn't let it go and she didn't have the heart to apparate away to avoid the whole situation. Normally she appreciated, even valued Hatch's ability to really dig in and stand by whoever was struggling, but there was no salvation for her this time that anybody else could provide to her. Sloane had to sit down on the bottom for a little while with herself before she started to dig her way out again.
He was waiting exactly where she thought he would be and Sloane had to pause at the door to take a deep breath before stepping out. She was so unprepared to do this that she just didn't even know what she could possibly say to him. "I don't have time, I have to keep on my rounds." If he was going to be kind, he would take the hint. Sloane wanted nothing more than to just slowly slip away and hope everyone forgot about her. Quietly and without a fuss, without saying things she would regret and without ruining things any further.
In was in hopes of that, Sloane strode right by him, not even making eye contact as she headed for the mooncalves, praying he might just let it go.
Another annoyed breath huffed out of Lester's mouth. For a second, he thought about letting her go. When she wanted to talk about it, she would. But she was going to leave again, and he'd always dogged her into telling him the truth before — he'd dogged her back into her own identity. So he couldn't give up this easy.
He put his hands in his trouser pockets and followed her. "Honestly, I also didn't write because I was upset you left," Lester called after her.
Biting her bottom lip so hard she would surely draw blood, Sloane kept with her frantic pace, which looked ridiculous with such short legs, but she had always been used to hurrying. He had every right to be upset with her when she left without notice. The problem was that she knew a conversation about her leaving would have dissolved into something more and she hadn't been (still wasn't) prepared to have any such discussions. Not that it would have mattered, it seemed.
Which left her here, still unsure, still sore and still reeling from what was happening.
"Fair," she tossed over her shoulder without really looking at him. "I had to go, nobody would really understand, so I left. It is what it is and I'm leaving again in a few days." Probably, hopefully, for good. If she could just expedition hop from place to place to finish out her apprenticeship, she would have enough experience to start taking on travel on her own merit and that was what was keeping her afloat. Barely.
Sloane took a hard left toward the mooncalf exhibit without giving any indication hoping he would get frustrated enough to give up.
Sloane was still blowing him off, and Lester's frustration spilled out in another sigh. She was really working to keep away from him, given that he had nearly a foot on her, and for a moment he almost decided to give up.
But he couldn't do that — not if she was leaving again. It felt like he could be at risk of losing her forever, and he did not understand why.
Lester followed her hard left and picked up his pace so that he was starting to catch up, and was finally close enough to reach out and grab her lower arm.
No response came and Sloane hadn't been been brave enough to look back to see if he'd bothered to follow. She hurrying, almost breaking out into something more than a walk, anything to put some distance between them. She didn't care if it made her look like a coward, this was out of pure self-preservation and she couldn't really make a rational decision, other than to get away.
But he was so much taller than her, that of course he'd caught up quickly. The grasp on her arm caused a hissed oath to whistle out under her breath, as he accidentally grabbed a fresh cut. Sloane wretched her arm free, which probably didn't help and now the damage was done. Blood seeped through the white of her blouse just below her elbow, obvious, and worse than she would have thought. Clearly it hadn't healed as much as she'd thought it had. She pressed her other hand against it, eyes wide as she looked up at Lester for only a brief moment. Just when she thought it couldn't be any worse.
There was absolutely no way to explain this away, so she made a snap-decision and ran, pushing past him back toward the bunks.
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