@❛ emilio castellanos。 Valeria stood in the heart of Spellbound Square, the vibrant hum of the bustling marketplace filling the air. The sun cast a warm glow over the cobblestone streets, highlighting the colorful stalls that lined the square. The "Bread and Magic Brew" pop-up stall, adorned with rich, dark wood and intricate carvings, stood proudly among them, ready to showcase their delicious pastries, bread, and enchanted beverages.

With a flick of her wand, Valeria commanded the boxes to unpack themselves. "Alohomora," she intoned, her voice steady and precise. The boxes, stacked neatly at her feet, began to shift and move, their lids popping open with a soft click. The contents – an array of freshly baked bread, flaky pastries, and magical beverages– floated gracefully into the air, each item finding its designated spot on the wooden shelves and counters

As she directed the items into place, Valeria suddenly remembered the decorative placemats she had specially prepared the night before. She had promised Mrs. Castellano that today’s event would be nothing less than perfect, and the placemats were supposed to add a special touch. Frowning, she squatted down and stuffed her head into the boxes, rummaging through them in a frantic search. Despite her efforts, the placemats remained elusive.

"Urgh..."

With a grunt of frustration, Valeria recalled there was one last box that she had probably left back in the store. Realizing the oversight, she felt a pang of disappointment. She had promised perfection, yet before things had even begun, she felt like she had already ruined the almost perfect day. Valeria tucked her wand back into her pocket and prepared to make a quick trip back to the store.

[post deleted by owner]

@❛ emeraude eddington。 To partake in the Deputy Minister’s disappearance, and during one of the Ministry’s most prominent and heavily anticipated events, Howl can only surmise that the individual—or individuals, he isn’t quite sure—responsible is incredibly seasoned with their craft.

Or embarrassingly reckless.

Not even he, with the bloody reputation that precedes him, would have dared to act so brazenly. To carry out a hit of this magnitude, he not only would have needed a perfect opening, but also ample time to prepare, of which he had neither. Many of his lesser commissions now have taken a seat on the back burner, his current and ongoing involvement with the House and the complicated matter surrounding Emeraude assuming precedence.

Keeping them in conversation for longer than two minutes had, at one point, been nigh impossible. Emeraude scarcely makes known their thoughts or shows their emotions, every word and minute gesture concealed by carefully practiced stoicism. The one thing they can never hide, however, is their fear of him. It’s always there, a subtle creeping thing, barely peeking through the seams that hold their mask in place.

Exchanging the occasional missive, however, offered Howl an opening. Where Emeraude might see him as some sort of demon, and justifiably so, if he has to be honest with himself, exchanging messages through the written word has allowed Howl to present himself to Emeraude as he truly is, without the added terror that comes solely from laying eyes on him.

He hopes, of course, that one day Emeraude might look at him as they look upon the missives, with a gentle sort of understanding and fondness.

Today, though, is not that day.

Emeraude turns to him, their expression fraught with worry, and Howl can wager a guess as to what they’re thinking. And when that request of theirs breaches the already thick line of tension between them, he can only hum his assent.

Liliane tugs at his sleeve, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Big Brother Howl, what’s going on?”

Howl casts a sideways glance at Emeraude, then shifts his attention to the little girl. “Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over, kiddo. Go on with your siblings. Emeraude and I shouldn’t be long.”

She pouts, not at all pleased by the prospect of having to detach herself from his side, but the weight of his hand on her head ruffling her hair is more than enough to soothe. With a playful salute, she bounds off after the other children. Howl’s gaze lingers on the group a moment longer before he turns on his heel and easily falls into step behind Emeraude.



Tucked away in that secluded corner, Howl leans back against the cold stone wall, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for Emeraude to find their words. Movement in his periphery draws his eyes downward, where he spots the rumpled hem of their shirt trapped between anxious fingers.

Once again, like always, Emeraude fears him.

Howl dares to peer up at their face again, brow furrowing as he notices the bleeding laceration on their lips. Before he has a chance to address it or cast any sort of healing charm on it, however, Emeraude speaks.

The question presented to him is loaded, and Howl hears the underlying suspicion. He isn’t stupid; he knows /exactly/ what Emeraude is thinking. It’s an accusation. Subtle, perhaps, but an accusation nonetheless.

“No.” Howl remains impassive, pushing a stray lock of dark hair back from his face as he locks eyes with Emeraude. “I don’t know what happened to him.”

@❛ ajax hughes。 With festivities nigh on the day of the Wizarding Convention, it was to be expected that Lydia had found herself partaking in the celebrations. She was part of the entourage with St. Mungo's, helping out any convention goer who had found themselves in a medical emergency – minuscule or otherwise. Time had passed infinitely until she finally took off the distinct green robes of a healer and donned her usual, more simplistic attire. As her shift was over, that meant she was free to roam the convention as she pleased. The young lass had promised to visit the potions making seminar with Ajax and she didn't want to be late. Slinging the crossbody bag over her thin shoulders, she bids her fellow healers a temporary farewell, stopping only to look at her current location on the map and planning a quick route.

The sun would set soon, evident by the way the sky was tinted a purplish orange, but there was enough light in the day for Lydia to not stumble into troublesome folks. Weaving her way through the crowds of convention goers she had finally found herself in front of the booth for the potions making seminar. Though, she was more focused on seeking out her tall, rather easy to spot friend amongst the people that had gathered. And upon spotting him, a light smile graces her delicate features and she strides over.

"Earth to Aj?" She laughs, waving her hand in front of him, "Am I late? I hope not, it seems they haven't started the seminar yet."

@❛ howl lee-ashwood。 Interacting with Howl every now and then in person was one thing. Being put in a situation where they were together for a whole day was an entirely different story.

Besides the letters, Emeraude barely talked to Howl. There were attempts recently, courtesy of Liliane who convinced them to reach out. Their conversations initially lasted only a few minutes, ending with the future dean feeling too overwhelmed to continue.

Improvements were made the more Emeraude talked to Howl. One minute turned to two, then five, then fifteen. Eventually, they were comfortable to talk for half an hour.

Still, to be put in this scenario by their mother… Emeraude did not know how to respond. They could hardly hold a conversation with Howl without feeling awkward, now they had to spend a whole day with him?

“Big brother Howl, can we go and see the flower stalls?”

Emeraude turned to Liliane, watching Howl converse with her. The gentleness etching his features was familiar yet foreign — they had seen it multiple times through the glimpses of him at the orphanage, but also on someone else’s face…

The memory receded just as quickly as it tried to emerge, the mental block working faster than the recollection could hurt Emeraude.

They watched as Howl carried Liliane towards the flower stalls. Some of the active children followed right behind, looking like obedient ducklings.

One of the shyer kids held Emeraude’s hand, snapping them out of their stupor.

“Aren’t you going, Big Brother Em?”

Emeraude glanced at the child holding their hand — Bleau with his round eyes looking up at them. Casting their gaze to the rest of the timid children, they could not help the smile gracing their lips.

“Follow your brothers and sisters. I’ll be right behind.”

They were hesitant at first. However, after much coaxing, they finally relented and went to join their siblings.

Emeraude watched the scene from afar, a soft sigh leaving their nose. So what if they had to spend the whole day with Howl? At least the children were with them. Any awkward silence could be replaced with their rowdiness. There was nothing to worry about.

With that in mind, a newfound determination filled Emeraude as they followed Howl and the children, just within reach to step in if any of the kids face danger.

≪ ❈ ≫

Emeraude observed from afar as Howl interacted with the children. They had seen it multiple times at the orphanage, yet it still surprised them how gentle the Nocturna Obscura could be.

They always wondered the reason behind Howl’s benignity. Was it an act? If so, why bother? His job was to keep Emeraude in place, to instil fear so they would obey the dean. Why go to great lengths as to interact with the children and play with them? To keep them on their toes and worry that he would lay a hand on the children?

Yet… as much as Emeraude did not want to admit it, there was no sign of malice upon Howl whenever he played with the children. The smile adorning his features was always genuine, and he seemed to really enjoy his time with the kids.

Not to mention… the letters. Their brain could deny the truth all it wants, but there was no doubt that the kind words in the letters were written by Howl too. The very same Howl who took Cel away from them — the one and only, now surrounded by their happy and excited siblings.

Perhaps… Emeraude must come to terms with the possibility that Howl is not as heartless as they believed. Perhaps, they had to discard their idea of Howl being an untameable monster, and instead embrace the reality that he is just a regular human being like everyone else, with sides to him that one must slowly find out.

For some reason, that thought frightened Emeraude. Yet, they did not hate it.

Maybe… there is a chance Emeraude could learn the person beneath the Nocturna Obscura, and actually see the kind person in the letters. They just had to be patient.

A smile unconsciously tugged their lips as they approached Howl and the children. One of them asked to be carried, which they happy complied. They nuzzled the child’s nose, eliciting a giggle from them.

Emeraude then turned to Howl. Their heart beat harshly in their chest, but they felt oddly excited.

They opened their mouth, wanting to grab Howl’s attention–

“Attention, all attendees.”

A booming voice blanketed the convention.

“The Deputy Minister has gone missing.”

≪ ❈ ≫

The Deputy Minister? Missing?

Despite the hush, panic permeated the air. The mass was in a state of unrest, all festive mood evaporated with the announcement. Not even the vendors dared to utter a sound in fear of breaking the camel’s back.

Emeraude’s mind was racing. Where could the Deputy Minister be? What could have happened to them?

In their haste, they turned to the person right beside them, wanting to ask for opinions.

Only to remember who stood by their side.

A sudden realisation hit Emeraude then. What if Howl had something to do with the disappearance?

‘Don’t be silly,’ a part of them scolded. ‘He was with you the whole time. How could he have done anything?’

‘That’s true,’ another part of them interjected. ‘However, who is to say he had to physically act for the Deputy Minister to go missing?’

‘Are you implying he is in kahoots with whoever caused the disappearance?’

‘All I’m saying is, there’s a probability of it happening. Besides, for all we know, the Deputy Minister could’ve been gone this whole time, but they didn’t say anything until now.’

‘You mean to say-’

‘If the Deputy Minister was missing since before the convention’s commencement, then there’s ample time for Howl to act. After all, we arrived separately.’

Emeraude worried their bottom lip, not realising the intensity of their action until they tasted metal.

“Big Brother Em!”

Emeraude covered their mouth. When they pulled their hand away, red tainted their palm.

Emeraude lowered the child — Anders. Anders procured a handkerchief from their pocket, helping them wipe their bloody lips. They took the cloth from Anders, smiling behind it as they patted them with their clean hand.

“How about you and your siblings explore the convention some more? I need to talk to Big Brother Howl.”

Anders nodded their head in understanding, turning to their fellow siblings to transfer the message. When Emeraude stood back up, they turned to Howl.

Their face was pale with worry.

“Can you… come with me for a minute?”

≪ ❈ ≫

Emeraude brought Howl away from the crowded square, finding a quiet corner for the two to hide. Few spared a glance their way, so a sense of privacy could be had for the conversation that was about to take place.

For a moment, Emeraude did not know how to start the subject. They fiddled with their clothes until the hem started crumpling, eyes in the direction of the children yet not actually seeing them.

How should they deliver their question? They did not want to come off as accusatory. Yet, they were suspicious and frightened.

Finally, Emeraude settled for something hopefully simple. They breathed deeply, stilling their beating heart — now racing with anxiety.

“Do you know what happened to the Deputy Minister?”

@❛ ajax hughes。 His establishment was far from being bankrupt, as many young children would pass by his store in Diagon Alley whenever the school year was starting, but any extra publicity was always welcome. Aside from being a business owner, Oscar still needed funds to keep himself, his animal friends, and his store afloat. Not to mention the amount of research and personally-set expeditions he planned whenever there was news of a rarer creature nearby. He was thankful that he had settled into this comfortable state of being social, where it was automatic and many assumed he was paying attention. He was paying attention but his heart wasn’t always in it, but it looked like it did.

During this specific day at the convention this week, he had arrived a little earlier than normal after passing out the moment he arrived home. The young magizoologist, more known as the friendly pet shopkeeper and animal care specialist, had unfortunately expected that his day was going to be amazing. He should have lowered his expectations as a few other tables near him were getting more attention, while he was getting half their audience. Perhaps the early Convention audience of magical folk passed his section enough, because the first few days were full of interested people at his stall.

Oscar sat on the chair behind the mini enclosure, which included space for his animal friends as well as a desk to entertain passing guests. His posture was far from stiff, his legs comfortably spread out and his specially-made owlery glove (a variation of those muggle falconry gloves) on his left arm. A young tawny owl left its perch from behind Oscar and landed on his left arm, the shopkeeper scratching the owl’s cheek.

“Do you know why there’s less people today, Rufus?” Rufus the owl let out a soft whistle, almost a coo as he was feeling his human friend’s doubt. Others would mistake it as a conversation between a man and his pet, but experts knew that he had formed deeper connections with the animal friends he cares for. They didn’t speak the same language, but the emotion would pass from one being to the next with ease.

“I don’t know either.” Oscar mumbled, now scratching the top of Rufus’ head while a Puffskein rolled about on the front of the desk, catching the eyes of a few curious witches at its cuteness. Oscar flashed them his common “customer service” smile, one practiced so well it looked genuine, until his attention diverted to where the young women were headed. It was the Magpies Quidditch setup, one he had not paid attention to much because he didn’t know any of the players. For some reason it was extra crowded that day and he regretted peeking through the arms and shoulders of gushing fans. Letting out an audible groan as he realized who they were fawning over, Oscar’s eyes rolled to the back of his head before he closed them.

It was the young student who almost killed him back in Hogwarts. He was more grown now, and a pro-Quidditch player. Oscar saved years of his life just not paying attention to professional teams, or else he would have seen the boy – the man’s face close to daily.

@❛ jean leroy。 [ note: this thread takes place prior to the announcement regarding the deputy minister's disappearance ]

As if she hadn't had enough on her plate, Maeve Sullivan had been elected as one of the Hogwarts professors sent to table at the event and partake in the festivities. She viewed it as a way for the school to bring in future students or perhaps funding from sponsors. Both things were above her particular pay grade and interest for that matter. Lecturing was one of her specialities, so it should have been a surprise to no one that her table was stacked with tools and books related to the subjects she taught.

However, she was never one to make things boring, and one question of interest in how she was flipping through the pages of her notes without using a wand led to a different sort of demonstration. She had taken time during her wandering travels to pick up on the local methods of using magic. She had spent a couple years in western Uganda, studying and guest lecturing at Uagadou, where she had picked up on their abilities to use magic without the assistance of a wand.

It brought a smile to her face every time a new person stepped up to her table, a range of ages interested in a methodology they had never experienced before.

Although, she supposed the last person she expected to see around her side of the event was someone she hadn't seen since her own school days at Hogwarts. Considering it wasn't a crime to walk around and experience all the different talents that had joined in the festivities, Maeve tried her best to avoid looking in his direction with a perplexed expression. She could be mistaken about the man's identity anyways. Over a decade had passed since she had last seen him, and it wasn't like they had been anything remotely close to even acquaintances when she had.

"Ms. Sullivan, does your magic weaken without the use of a wand?" A probing question drew her attention back to the topic at hand, and she offered a small shake of her head while a soft smile settled on her lips.

"In communities where wands have not been used, their magic is as strong as ours with a wand. Now, if you were to decide to attempt wandless magic, you might find that it is considerably weaker than when you use a wand. Like any hobby or task, practice will help you perfect the art. You don't become physically strong overnight, and magic is the same."

@❛ emeraude eddington。 The sheer magnitude of the Wizarding Convention is almost too much for Howl to handle. Hundreds of voices blend into a cacophony that grates against his nerves, and the relentless ebb and flow of the crowd feels like a tide threatening to sweep him away. He stands stiffly, his shoulders taut, eyes flicking warily over the sea of faces that swarm the grand hall. Emeraude is beside him, an anchoring presence of sorts, but even their stoic demeanor, he notices, is tinged with malaise.

Howl has always preferred solitude, the quiet sanctity of his own thoughts, and the crowded convention is the absolute antithesis of his comfort zone. He had agreed to attend, partly out of obligation to Lilith, who declared the order that he accompany Emeraude and the children to this event, but mainly because Liliane, one of said children, had asked him to. Her clutched hands, earnest eyes, and hopeful smile had been impossible to refuse.

A small tug at the hem of his coat draws his attention downward, where Liliane stands, her eyes wide with wonder. “Big brother Howl, can we go and see the flower stalls?”

The general unease that’s been swimming around in the back of his head recedes at the sight of her, her unbridled excitement and innocence a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. An invisible string tugs the corners of his lips upward as he lifts her into his arms with ease. “Of course, kiddo.”

They weave through the crowd, Howl keeping a protective hold on Liliane. The flower stalls are a riot of color and fragrance, a vivid contrast to the oppressive throng of people. Liliane’s face lights up as she gazes at the myriad of blooms.

“Look at all the flowers!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling.

Howl can’t help but smile at her delight. With a flick of his wrist and a whispered incantation, he conjures a delicate crown of flowers. He places it gently on Liliane’s head, the vibrant blossoms a striking contrast against the pretty doll-like curls. It’s a perfect match for her radiant little smile.

“There,” he says softly. “A pretty crown for an equally pretty princess.”

Liliane giggles, twirling in delight once Howl sets her down, and the other children from the House of Hestia gather around, their faces alight with curiosity and admiration. Howl kneels, meeting their eager gazes with a rare, genuine warmth.

“Would you like to get some treats?” he asks, and the chorus of excited yeses is immediate and enthusiastic.

They make their way to a nearby food stall, the air thick with the sweet scent of pastries and candies. Howl buys an assortment of sweets, distributing them among the children, their laughter and chatter a welcome reprieve from the increasingly oppressive atmosphere of the convention.

For a brief moment, Howl allows himself to relax, basking in the simple joy of the children’s company. But the sense of unease never fully dissipates, lingering at the edges of his awareness like a shadow.

The announcement comes suddenly, cutting through the festive air like a knife. “Attention, all attendees,” a voice booms over the loudspeakers. “The Deputy Minister has gone missing. For the safety of our guests and to ensure the safe return of Deputy Minister Nightshade, all exits to the convention have been locked down. No one is to leave the premises until further notice.”

A hush falls over the crowd, the previous merriment replaced by a palpable tension. Howl’s eyes narrow, his senses sharpening as he scans the area. The children huddle closer to him and Emeraude, their earlier excitement now overrun with fear.

‘Disappearance in broad daylight,’ he thinks, his hand rubbing comforting circles into a little boy’s back. ‘Gutsy, they are, whoever’s behind it.’

@❛ astra pendrich。 Feeling the weight of the blood phial thrumming in his sternum, he knew the woman was here somewhere. Besides the missive sent to his apartment on a random day, two—or three—years passed as the two diverged in their separate ways. Before, they weren’t necessarily joined to the hip, however, they spent nights huddling for warmth. Listening to the fire crackle from the digitized fireplace on his flat screen TV offered him the comfort he rarely sought or received. Yet it was illusory, much like the acts of niceness rife with artifice.

But what the hell did Astra want now? From the looks of it before, she wanted nothing to do with him, and that was made clear in the letter. Why all of a sudden, is he feeling his pendant vibrate like the phone in his pocket? From his annoyance, his nerves wound up into knots.

With his jaw set, he stepped out of the shadows cast in the alleyway. Away from the soaring ceilings, Alec emerged out of the shadows, answering at her behest.

Starting out on the cobbled path, he staved off his temptation to apparate, opting to join the hordes of people pouring into the interior instead.

Expecting the uproar of giddy wizards and beasts amidst flight weaving tapestries of magic, he was met with the hushed whispers of others and the urgent orders relayed by the organizers outside and inside of the premises. Tension thickened the air, overpowering the cloying joviality that overtook the hall earlier. His eyes swept the room, visibly relaxing in spite of the fear filling the air and others’ eyes. Once he found his target, he scooted through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs and expletives from strangers, then slowed to a halt as he stood beside her.

“Pst, Astra. What the hell is going on?” He leaned in to whisper in her ear, but the voice of Minister Im reverberated in the halls as soon as he subtly seized control of the podium. With each passing minute, he listened more attentively to the grave news being delivered, specifically the disappearance of Marlin Nightshade. Marvelling at how the minister pulled the attention toward him, even himself, his focus betrayed him with his glances towards the woman.

@❛ annette im。 Cloistered by the sterile atmosphere of the Wizard Convention, Alec slipped through the throng of wizards, who can barely contain himself with budding excitement. Redolent with the overt enthusiasm from his coworkers and wizards who were first-time goers, he took the opportunity to escape immediately. Teeming with talkative wizards—regardless if they were pure blood or No-Maj—attempting to trap him in small talk, he felt his social battery drain from mimicking their politeness, his insincere smile mirroring theirs.

“Hello, I’m from the Magizoology department!”
“Nice to meet you, Alec! We should circle back on this soon.”
“Would you like some chocolate frogs? They don’t bite!”

Vacuity in small talk or “ice breakers” unnerved him, the lengths people go through just to seem “polite”. Saccharine in their tone, yet too smarmy for it to be genuine. But his participation was an effective way to abate wariness from others.

After trudging through the crowd in the mall, he ended up in an alley. Squalid in its state, he somehow found more comfort in the putrid smells, as if weirdly nostalgic for the covert crime he committed here. Reflexively, he fixes the necklace hung around his neck, toying with the pendant nestling in his chest.

Hearing someone else’s voice caused his ears to perk up, though not in shock but in intrigue. Turning to face the person, his sharp eyes narrowed slightly in discernment.

“Well, I don’t suppose this is the usual spot for a respite? But it’s rare I receive … visitors.” A wry chuckle rose from him, before sauntering over to her, his face lit up with mischief.

“You aren’t some spy sent here, are you?”

@❛ benjamin boo。 []her visual ref is her dp <3

katerina isn't one to say to go out and invite another wizard out on what others may call a 'date'. yet, here she is roaming the cobblestone street while lingering here and there at the numerous stalls that vibrantly lined the area, attracting the keen eye of patrons roaming around. the little convention for witches and wizards was such a nice event, it even drew in the slytherin female as she looked around in piqued interest. the veela female was never one to have many close friends that she wished to go out with and shop for cute and rare artifacts; no, katerina was the type to do things on her own. 

however, today was different, something about the young gryffindor intrigued the woman and tempted her to know more about him, get him closer into her clutches, and spin him like a web. as horrible as it may seem or sound to others. katerina was the type to connive and manipulate her way around others, she enjoyed playing the long game and seeing where things went, and something about this benjamin boo fellow really captured her attention and made her want to see just how far she could go with him.

mind games were a hell of a thing, and the young woman knew she was playing a fickle game with the other, he was a pretty guy too. her ideal type, if you count visuals, and the curiosity that he owns? she couldn't help but wish to toy with that and get him to do things she wanted him to do in the end. maybe he would be one of her many conquests in the end. who knows. but either way, for katerina to ask him in a little note while passing by, hinting at: 'would you like to go to the convention with? consider it a little outing, you might learn a thing or two. meet me there on saturday at 3pm.' katerina clearly meant it as a date, and the young femme fatale surely had her work cut out for her, yet the butterflies were spasming in her stomach as she checked artifacts—as rare as they may be—from stall to stall, eyeing some gems and even potions that captured her rapid attention span; katerina was lamenting over the fact that benjamin may be close, and when he's here, this little 'outing' would be the start of whatever this is between the two. 

something new, something scary, either way, the little vile of love potion she's toying with looks a bit too pretty in her eyes, and it reminds her back to the first time she used one on the pretty, clueless male.

@❛ eleanor deschamps。 The merriment that enveloped the square further drove Vivienne to the edge of the bustling convention. She watched as witches and wizards immersed themselves in the magical atmosphere, with bright eyes that skimmed over enchanted artifacts and lively interactions from those who came from all walks of life. Yet, Vivienne was merely a spectator in this world that she once held so much joy for.

As a child, she had adored such gatherings where she and her siblings would dart from stall to stall, as they marveled at magical creatures and watched wide-eyed at performances. But as she grew older, the memories dimmed, and her reality was replaced by the weight of responsibilities and adulthood that grows less magical with each passing year.

With a sigh, Vivienne turned around, preparing herself towards the stage where she would have to give a speech in which she was scheduled to give. It was a task she approached with professionalism, even if her heart was no longer in it. But as she made her way over, she accidentally bumped into someone.

"Excuse me," she murmured, her voice trailing off as she looked up to see who she had collided with. And instantly, she recognized the woman before her.

It was Eleanor Deschamps, a face from two years ago that left Vivienne rather bewildered when she donated a substantial amount to an auction for St. Mungo's, and they had exchanged letters briefly to convey their gratitude with a sense of professionalism. Initially, she had assumed Eleanor would be a stuck-up, typical member of the upper echelons of wizarding society. However, through their exchanges of their letters, Vivienne had discovered a truer side to her—humble, kind, and unexpectedly genuine.

"El–," she soon corrected herself, playing with a faint smile on her lips. “Miss Deschamps, it's been a while. How have you been?"

@❛ alec greenwood。 Being one of the people in charge of this event was a sort of everyday thing for Annette Im, who was always either an attendee on the clock or the sole reason why said event was happening in the first place— either way, she had grown to detest these sorts of days. Warm sun creeping in for the summer, an overwhelming amount of people, and of course, Annette’s paycheque on the line. She had to do her best.

She just wished it was only about the money.

So, when she slipped away for just a moment, becoming a stranger in the crowds and not someone with a ‘HI MY NAME IS Annette’ sticker on her chest that had somehow, someway migrated to her pocket (not because she ripped it off and stuffed it in there, no way, no how), she thought a moment of reprieve was necessary. Maybe a vacation would be needed, and /soon/… She was only 29, the grey hairs had already begun multiplying in her raven hair. She was going to look like a bald eagle soon enough.

Annette had found her way in a tucked away alley, the street not so clean but she had hoped it would be empty— well, that was short-lived. “Oh,” Annette remarked, her voice flat. “I didn’t expect someone else to be here.” But she probably should’ve. Maybe she wasn’t as clever as she hoped.

[ Open starter - Feel free to run off with it if you want ]

The air was practically crackling with magic and excitement. All around Sirona could her the buzzing of peoples’ conversations as they looked at the booths and exhibitions set up by witches and wizards of all walks of life. The laughter of excited children mixed in, their voice high and energetic as they played with new magical toys and candies. Everywhere seemed so alive, a proper get together of all magicians from around the world.

“And ‘ere I am, packed away in tha corner not ejoyin’ any of it,” she spoke out loud to herself, glancing back at her homemade setup. It probably wasn’t that strange that she had been allocated to a small corner booth. Compared to many of the displays around her it looked rather shoddy. And who was really that interested in the nesting- and courting habits of the Augurey, anyways.
“‘Cept me.”
The red head let out a puff of air, lifting a few strands of her messy hair up and out of her face. Some would have to agree that the photos of the chicks were a little cute though. As if their adult selves didn’t have comical enough expressions as is, the babies looked positively goofy. Enough to bring a smile to Sirona’s lips even here in the corner.

She glanced around. Perhaps she could sneak off for a bit. Find a little fun of her own. No one would probably notice, would they?