eyes of a raven, hands of a healer

Selma tried to hold her composure. He could see it all over her face. He was a reminder and knew it. He was the definition of pureblood and was proud of such a fact. Seeing her fight it amused him.

Rodolphus looked at the herbs in his hand. He had no need for it but didn’t know if he should hand it to her or keep it as a child would. “Good use for it, eh?” he pondered aloud. “I’m sure I could find some use for it,” he shrugged turning the vile around in his hand. He probably could take it to work and play with it but did he want to? That was the question.

When she asked if she could help him Rodolphus’ lips turned upward. He had to take the opportunity. “I could use some guidance and would love your help, Miss Avery.”

Despite that, no matter how many steps the witch would take away from her family, in the end the name remained. The blonde was more than determined to make something of herself without the involvement of her family. Had they not been utterly desperate to cover up what the papers had spilled on them regarding her blood status? Of course, how easy it was to believe for most that it was nothing but a story made up, a threat to their family by those who'd love to tear down the sacred twenty eight. Selma herself had never been asked in that regard. Now she no longer cared to answer the unspoken question.

Whatever faint surprise that Selma might have been feeling upon seeing Regulus in the flesh, alive and breathing, was well covered. He hardly noticed and that was really saying something because Regulus noticed nearly everything. He watched her carefully before taking a seat across from her and crossing one ankle over the other. "Selma will do just fine, I am sure." Regulus nodded. In truth, he cared very little what he called her. Whatever suited her best was just fine by him. He simply hated the last name that was so tightly attached to his first. Avoiding having it said was always preferrable.

Humming lightly, Regulus nodded. "I appreciate that." He started. "But there are people in this town- This world- that would love nothing more than to expose the house I come from as weak. Or, at least, weakening. I would prefer not to see my name on any head lines for a while. Regardless of how many gillions they offer you." Regulus explained before leaning forwards in his sweat. "If a tempting offer should come across your desk, I will double it for the name of whoever is trying to collect information on myself." He offered, his dark green eyes setting on her. Holding the look for a long moment, Regulus rolled his shoulders and settled once more.

It was his next words that peaked her interest, caused the young woman to rise and move around the room as she listened slowly but ever so intently. A small chuckle escaped her yet the sound left no doubt of the lack of amusement within the sound. "The only tempting offer I have been given was to become your healer. That is as far as that goes. I have no interest in having my name associated with the leaking of information that is neither mine to share nor of interest to me. I do not care for galleons, no matter the amount. If I had wanted such things I certainly would not have made the choices I made. I would have stood by my family and lived their lies. Now, you may neither know nor care, but I know the feeling of having other's take what is yours to share. And I for one, knowing the feeling of such foul play, am the furthest from interested in getting involved in such matters." Selma had no doubt that Regulus had no idea who she was beyond the family name that she'd held all this time. A name, nothing more. Perhaps it was best that way.

She smiled polite as she let parchment and quill float in the air next to them, ever so ready to take notes if she would so require. "Alright." The witch gave a nod. "Just Regulus it is. In this case it would seem only polite not to insist a formal state of conduct regarding my name. The name's Avery, but we'll let that go. Selma will suffice. If you are comfortable with that, that is. Regarding the request for privacy made upon the date set for the appointment, I have no wish to disclose whatever happens behind closed doors. If not for standing a healer, a need for healer-patient confidentiality then certainly out of my own conviction that every person out there deserves a space where they don't have to worry about the world and their view on things."

Without so much as a moment to wait, still leaving the other plenty of space to respond she began to let her eyes drift, scanning the person in front of her to get an idea without necessarily needing to hear it. The quill scribbled away at it, already putting down whatever thoughts came to mind. Despite that the question was aired all the same. "Tell me, what is it I can do for you exactly?" It wasn't a lack of expertise, no. Rather a firm belief that a person could give a better look into the issues at hand than a simple glance. Selma would have to examine him one way or another, what was the harm in asking first?

That's how Ludo ended up living with Selma. She really did have a heart of gold and helped them out in their time of need, and for that Ludo would be eternally grateful. However, they were quite an unlikely pair and living with a stranger proved to be rather difficult. Especially after being so used to having a fiancee that did almost everything they asked for, it was a difficult transition and they weren't taking to it very well.

Laying down on the sofa, Ludo tilted their head back, allowing the final drops of beer slide out of the bottle and down their throat. It was the last bottle left in the house. "Selmaaaa!" They called, wondering if she was planning on leaving the house anytime soon.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the rather intense call of her name. "Merlin." The blonde let the sigh escape as she rushed toward the sound only to be met with Ludo lounging on the sofa, clearly enjoying themself far too much for her liking. "What is it?" The witch dropped the cloth, fumbling as she folded it neatly. "Based on the way that sounded I thought something bad had happened."

“You can.” Peter nodded, not sure why she’d want to, but then he might’ve been the best of a bad pick. “I mean uhh, I don’t mind,” he assed quietly, cheeks flushing as he almost hid behind his book and took another sip of his butterbeer.  

"I do. Finished my training a few months ago." The witch gave a shrug. "Then again, I don't suppose any healer ever finishes learning the art of healing, hm?" Her eyes shot up, glancing at the one beside her. "I'm mainly found in the Janus Thickery Ward. Curses, spell damage; that sort of thing. Also the department for plant and potion damage." Selma very much prided herself on the fact that she had accomplished more than her family had ever thought possible, all on her own.

"Well, I can't claim this need to be stronger than that of others." The former Ravenclaw shifted, turning her body to properly face the one who'd made equal claim to the small vial. "If you must know, I need it for an anti love potion. Mungo's gets quite busy around Valentine's day and the weeks after. Never know how long people wait to eat the treats of a less than wanted admirer." Selma couldn't help the chuckle. No, this person deserved her kindness and respect as much as the next person.

Rodolphus was out in Diagon Alley. The sun was out but the air was whipping. His signature leather coat and high top boots kept him as warm as he needed to be. Those two accessories always kept him as warm as needed regardless of the weather, including the harsh weather. Being born in the middle of winter made him harsh. Damn sunny days.

He was passing by a healer's shop where he saw some ingredients. His eyes shifted as he scanned over each of them haphazardly. Without hardly stopping, he reached for the gurdyroot, beating someone to the punch.

Rodolphus grabbed the vile and chuckled, more to himself. "Oh, you wanted this?" He said, sounding as sincere as possible but not caring in the slightest whether the witch wanted it or not. Oftentimes he was a man-child. Rodolphus was just happy to have something someone else wanted. "I wanted it too." Rodolphus batted his eyelashes, sarcasm dripping from them. "Such a pickle."

Selma's eyes left no doubt that this wasn't an encounter she enjoyed, yet she lacked a certain fear or worry that some may have seen healthy in such a situation. "Not a pickle at all." Her own voice held a certain level of disdain for the other, masked very little. This was her way of keeping her promise to herself: No more pretending to be something she wasn't. And gladly so. "I'm sure you'll find some good use for it."

There was an abundance of words that came to mind when it came to Rodolphus. Not only to describe the wizard in front of her, but also things that under different circumstances the young witch would have loved to have thrown his way. "Is there anything else you need before I continue this shopping trip?" Her words certainly left no doubt that her preferred way of going about this would be without him. "Or is there anything else I can help you with?" Politeness at best.

Finding himself back in Diagon Alley did give Tilden an idea. It wasn't often he had time to scope out his competition, not that there really was any competition. Tilden's shop had been known to be the best apothecary around, always having stock of items that were hard to find, along with a stock of freshly brewed potions daily. He took pride in knowing he was doing quite well for himself.

Spotting a familiar face, his smile grew wider. It was always nice to see a regular customer, but even nicer to see them outside of the shop. Selma had always been kind and supportive of him. Hearing her question, Tilden shook his head, waving his hand as though he was physically waving away her concerns. "No, no. I've got lots at the shop. Speaking of the shop - are you cheating on me with this random vendor? I'm quite hurt, Selma."

The witched glanced down the alley for a moment before adjusting the bag on her shoulder with a sigh. There were quite a few things on her list before she'd have the chance to make it to the apothecary. Perhaps she'd be able to allow herself a small detour, though. There were benefits in pushing the visit to the apothecary forward, surely. "I better be prepared. Valentine's day is a nightmare at St. Mungo's. Don't think I have to tell you how many people think love potions are the way to go. If last year's any indication, a choir of fresh mandrakes may make for a better evening." Thinking back to the pour soul, struck with a love potion, serenading the halls of St. Mungo's in a most horrid way sent shivers down her spine.