petrified

Adelina & Verity @petrificusx

Most of the attention Verity had given out was undeniably fake. Yes she did find some of the people she crossed paths with (and inevitably used) to be attractive, which made some of her antics rather easy. It was as her mother often taught her, there was usually some grain of truth when scheming a mark. For the allotted time that a con was before her, Verity often made it her truth, trying to convince herself that yes she in fact did have some level of something for the people she used for information. Whatever to get a mission done and scrape off more time from her sentence with Home Office. But at the end of the day, even after she had convinced herself it was a truth, it was all just fallacy. That was the typical case… At least where Veelas weren’t concerned.

“Not like this,” he mused, observing the burn closely but also from a careful distance. His job was to heal and not hurt, so Ted tried not to be too direct on injuries. Besides, it was a fairly cut and dry thing — there were plenty of remedies for burns. The degree of the burn would dictate exactly what to use, which was why he was taking his time to be sure. Burn remedies could hurt at first — sting, sometimes smoked, and could be pungent as well. He didn’t want to pick the wrong remedy out of haste. “I don’t think in all my years here I’ve gotten anything too crazy. Though, a kid did bite me once but I don’t think that’s nearly as fascinating a story as whatever happened to earn you this.” Humming as they told him what had happened, Ted was somewhat relieved to hear it was just a baby dragon. It lined up with the injury, but it also meant there wasn’t someone else who got completely fried while Narcissa only walked away with a hand burn.

“Only twice? Sounds like a normal Tuesday to me,” Ted teased. He remembered working long shifts in the trauma center, getting bodily fluids on his robes and needing to change them frequently. He wasn’t good at cleaning charms, so he never mastered the art of just cleaning them himself. Thankfully there were always extra god awful lime colored robes to go around in those situations. “Of course you remember me, look at me,” he lazily motioned to himself, long body sprawled over a lumpy couch, and flashed a dimpled smile. “I’m a specimen,” Ted joked. Always joking, never quite too serious, even when he was worn out from hours on his feet running around helping as many patients as possible. Truth be told, Ted remembered some of his first day. What he mainly remembered was another Healer Pettigrew who had spared him some kindness in the midst of his anxiety during that first fretful shift. It had only felt right to do the same to her son in return when he started there. And now? Now he had a wonderful friendship that made the harder days so much easier. How could he complain about that? Propped on an elbow, he looked contemplative when Peter revealed why he wasn’t allowed to be on the quidditch team. Ted despite himself had been dreadfully smart as a student, and his sociable demeanor as well as serious attitude about his academics made him well liked by students and faculty alike. He couldn’t imagine McGonagall disliking Peter, who he thought was a better person than he was some days. “In another life, I think you were a quidditch star, Petey,” he said in a dreamy sort of way, leaning back so his head rested over the arm rest. “But I think we can settle on finding you a quidditch star in this life,” he teased, wagging his eye brows at the younger healer, just to tease him further. But it gave way to a mock frown when Peter seemed to think it wouldn’t happen. “Hey, hey — don’t sell yourself short, Pettigrew. You’re a damn looker, all soft blue eyes and cheekbones, any guy would be lucky to have you. And I sure as hell ain’t giving up on finding you one,” he nodded resolutely.

Jae couldn’t tell if Barty was giving them a sincere compliment or not, but tried not to get too pent up about it. When you were an up and coming musician and a disc jockey, money didn’t come easy, so in some cases you had to put in some extra work. For Jae that had meant making his own costumes for their shows and so he had taken time to learn how to sew and mend and design. Maybe it did make him a genius, but he wasn’t about to let that get to his head. “Well if you know you’re special, then…” They trailed off, giving the man an expected look. Barty had made one too many promises that included helping the band get out of shittier places in Hogsmeade. To the point where some of the others told Jae to stop believing in him so willingly. It had started to wear on Jae’s last nerve in more recent times, the realization Lorcan d’Eath could have been so much more by now if they just got the right opportunity. If Barty really believed in them, it was time to show it. That was what they resolutely thought as they spoke to the man.

She raised a brow at his summer comment, “So you’re saying this isn’t exactly the best summer destination? Hm, London is appearin’ less and less charmin’. Guess it’s time to move on,” she sighed, but didn’t move from her spot. While she would have loved to actually leave the UK, Verity had a mission and an open ended ticket. They was no going, no turning her back on this. Not yet. Not until she could confirm that whatever conflict was brewing between the wixen here stayed here and didn’t leak across the Atlantic. The last thing the states needed was the kind of fanaticism that was erupting certain groups in Wizarding UK. There was enough division elsewhere to keep people cruel, they didn’t need someone emboldening them to do much more. That was the big question on the operative’s mind lately — who was behind this anyway? As she met more of the upper crust of London’s wixen society, she was less convinced it was one of them. Some seemed callous, sure, but they overall seemed harmless. Whoever this Lord Voldemort was, she struggled to reconcile them with some of the faces she met. Even the ones she didn’t particularly care for. “Mm, no the cold isn’t anyone’s friend — but that’s what other friends are for, right? To help keep warm?” Another lift of her brow, a lot less quizzical than the last.

"Well, that is true. I feel as though everything around here is so different, yet some things are so similar I'm almost confused I know what it is...does that make sense?" For the last week or so, Polly had been both shocked and comforted that most things here weren't as different as she thought they would be, it made the move a little easier. But there were moments when she convinced themself that it should have been more different; all to simply confuse themself even more. "Oh really? Well then, she's both pretty and helpful. That's good to know." Not that Pauline had plans to whip up any potions from her body or leaves or whatever was needed. "Right, not apartment, flat. That's something I have to get used to." Using words like apartment were a surefire way to show she wasn't from here if the accent didn't already do it. "A bit of a shock, that's for sure. But it's been fun so far, although I'm not sure if it's hit me quite yet that I'm not here on vacation." Weeks and weeks would have to go by before she realized this was more permanent than a trip. "Have you always lived in this area? I've been on the lookout for a local born and raised here, I feel like their advice might be the best to follow."

“I think it does,” they conceded, friendly smile on their face. While they themselves hadn’t gone through the culture shock of moving far, Jae supposed in a sense they could understand where Pauline was coming from. In a way any situation that involved a change from culture felt similarly, and being Asian on top of being a part vampire meant that a lot of the times Jae had felt a bit on the outside looking in, and that similarities between his world and the one around him were confusing and yet familiar. Maybe in some weird sense they could relate to her words, or maybe they were skewing things in an attempt to be empathetic. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone will be confused if you say ‘apartment’,” they said politely, sure that the word was at least recognizable here. The accent of course gave away where she was from, and in that case they thought anyone she crossed paths with would probably already be prepared for the little American sayings to come out. “Oh so you’re not just visiting then,” Jae deduced from her words. “What caused the move, if you don’t mind my asking?” Why he wanted to know, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he was just being friendly. He heard Americans were incredibly friendly and personable with other strangers. They were just giving it a try themselves. “In Hogsmeade? No, not really. I mean I went to school near here, and lived here a bit after graduation. I’m here mostly because of work — I work for the radio, and our headquarters is here. That being said, I know my way around. If you need advice, I can try to offer it though I can’t promise to always be sound.”

Bryony wasn't entirely sure that a tree that was larger than fourteen feet would be a good use of her time, she planned on decorating the entire downstairs of her home, and she worried that a larger tree would take away from the rest of her plans. But it was certainly an idea, and she didn't mind considering it. She would have to speak with her husband about it. "Good, I was hoping that you would say that. The invitations should be going out soon, we just need to settle on our date and then we are going to get things started. With his work he can be so busy we want to make sure it's on a good date," she mused, looking across the table at Corban. "It will be a good evening. I think that it's exactly what we need. There has been a lack of truly exclusive events lately, don't you think?" She asked, shaking her head. "All of the big names will be there, of course. The Notts, and unfortunately the Carrows due to my brother's choices lately, but I digress," she rolled her eyes. "The Blacks will be there as well, and the Malfoy's, of course. I have some ideas of who I'd like to fix you up with, but I am going to keep them close for now. I need to do a little more work. But fear not, I have been working on it."

“This time of year can be so busy,” he mused, “But I’m sure you’ll secure the perfect date for your soirée. Of course, if I can be of any assistance as you put things together, feel free to reach out. I can think of no one more capable of putting together something spectacular as yourself, but as you know my family has been known to throw a good bash every now and then.” An understatement. The Yaxley branch from which Corban was born were particularly well known for their extravagant dinner parties, and he was no stranger to a decadent event. The names she rattled off had him confident in her guest list, though his jaw tightened at the mention of the Carrows. Not because he had a particularly low opinion of the family — he once had a shine for Alecto Carrow, after all. Before his cousin died and his father tried to take charge in the family. Before his reputation shifted dramatically. The news that Arden and Alecto made a match was strangely bitter tasting to Corban, but he didn’t think much on it. The fact that the Malfoys would be there piqued his interest enough to distract, his mind going back to his chance meeting with the Malfoy girl. “It sounds like the perfect group to have a particularly wonderful evening with,” he conceded, not entirely speaking on one family in particular. At least, not out loud. His nose scrunched at her refusal to tell him who she would set him up with, but Corban merely gave her an amused smile, shaking his head to dismiss the subject. “Well, regardless, I look forward to it. It will be a nice change of pace, especially with that exclusive guest list. I had high hopes that other announced event would be similar, but I understand that charities often need to be open to the public,” he was referencing the first ball of the Francesca Fudge Foundation being held at Malfoy Manor, the one for which invitations had recently gone out. His eyes sparkled curiously as he glanced at Bryony, figuring she had a possible hand in this as well. “It’s a great idea. Very philanthropic, though should any of us be surprised since a Malfoy is behind it?” A curious thought dawned on him. “Are you… familiar with the younger Malfoy?” He didn’t want to assume all pureblood ladies ran in the same circles, though it seemed fairly obvious to him. He also didn’t want to seem too eager to learn information about her. It was a casual question, and he had an air of indifference about him even if his curiosity was piqued.

“He is quite a valued employee actually,” he replied, though he was sure it wasn’t meant in a friendly way but he decided to ignore that. He could tell from his expression his tolerance was low but he didn’t want Sonic loose in the streets of Diagon alley, and Merlin forbid if he wandered down to Knockturn they would probably take him. Though he didn’t think there were any nefarious spells with hedgehogs, but you never knew. “I’m not really enjoying this game, but it will be just a moment,” he said as he scanned the floor and looked behind a few boxes. He found him after a few moments tucked in a box that he must have climbed into and was unable to get himself out of. “Thanks for that you little rascal,” he chucked as he picked him up and walked back over to the counter. He placed the hedgehog in a little enclosure he had in the back and then moved to take a look at what the other had placed on the counter. He opened the lid of the box and let out a low whistle when he saw the shape the wind was in. “What did you do, sit on it? Really did a number on this one,” he said as he held it very carefully inspecting the one splinter that seemed to be holding it together.

Corban narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at the other man, unsure if this was some sort of joke or not. Not that it had particularly mattered to him then — no, Corban was deeply occupied with other concerns. Whatever happened with a damned critter had absolutely nothing to do with him, and he found himself growing quietly irritated as the worker took his time to find the little thing instead of helping him. This of course did not show on Corban himself — years of private etiquette classes instilled the best manners in him and he looked the picture perfect image of casual patience as he “politely” waited by the counter for the shopkeeper to conclude his little game with the animal. When it was recovered, he feigned relief for the worker, and waited until their back was fully turned to let out the eye roll he’d been concealing so efficiently. When finally the worker returned to look at the wand, Corban straightened from where he’d casually leaned on the counter and watched as Kieran inspected the damaged wand. “No, no, no,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “This was not my mistake. Thankfully my own wand is in one perfect piece, I promise you that, Ollivander. No, this is the doing of a visiting diplomat from the States, actually. And between you and me—” He leaned elegantly on his elbow, braced on the top of the counter as he lowered his voice, “I don’t exactly buy his silly story about slipping on a slick spot on the pavement and his wand ‘falling’ out of his pocket and rolling onto the path of a youth riding a penny-farthing.” It was a ludicrous idea; perhaps instead the American sat on his own wand and just didn’t want to tell the embarrassing truth. “What do you say, can it be fixed or should I make some funeral arrangements on behalf of my ‘yankee friend’?”

AMITY WALKER & CARDOC DEARBORN @petrificusx

When Caradoc was a second year at Hogwarts, one of the professors had gotten it into their mind to start a pen pal exchange with students from other magical schools. It wasn’t the most popular idea by far, but Cary — ever sociable and curious — had signed up for it. Initially he expected a Europe based pen pal, perhaps someone from Beauxbatons or even Koldovstoretz. Mahotokoro or Uagadou seemed just a bit of a stretch but still somewhat likely. To his utter surprise the pen pal he had been assigned was a similarly aged student from Ilvermorny. Not that that was disappointing, but even with magical advancement it had meant that his letters would arrive slower than his classmates that ended up with a pen pal from the other European schools. It had been one of the first tests of his patience, awaiting that first letter from his American friend. A friend he already considered them, as Caradoc had considered almost anyone he spared a jovial “hello” to be his friend. When the first letter came, he was shocked by how excited he’d been. Amity Walker, he remembered the name the moment he saw it scrawled in her own hand. When he’d written his first letter back, it had been the first time he addressed it “My Friend Amity,” and ever since he started every single exchange between them similarly. The class experiment had only lasted a year, with most communications tapering off as other students lost interest. It had been different for Cary and Amity. While the excitement of the letter exchange program wore out quickly for his classmates, Cary continued to write to his pen pal, their correspondence lasting years and the friendship that accompanied it blossoming into their adulthood.

“I think manipulation is the greatest art of them all”