Absit Omen RPG

He startled a little at Ballentyne's exclamation, quickly following the surprised expression with a good humoured laugh. That was one thing he hadn't worried about - nobody cared about some wizard who'd gone and gotten himself bit by a werewolf south of the border. Robin recovered and turned in peace, sans a scandal.

"No, I understand, nobody wants attention from the public eye," he paused once her ankle rested fully on the knee of the other leg. "I'm thinking more, you know, personal relations. Friends, family, lovers. They look away, it breeds distance. Keep this position for a minute, nice deep breaths while we're here."

The wizard stepped back, adjusting the legs slightly while he continued to chat. "That's what was hanging over my head when I wrote to Bal," he sighed, though it was a pleasant sigh. "Nobody wants to hear from an ex they haven't spoken to in years, much less one who's written with news like mine."

Robin lifted his fingers in mock jazz hands. "Surprise I need a couch to crash on! Oh and I'm a werewolf now!" he grinned and looked younger for it. "But I didn't have to worry. Sometimes you just expect the worse because it's all you got for years."

It was a strange new feeling to be able to expect courtesy and real warmth again, from unexpected corners.

She had a point that it would stain like mad, it would be very light and more like a bluish grey then a violet colour, if she was in Hogwarts then even with the elves that was kissing the cardigan goodbye, someone would find a way to ruin it, which would be a shame as it would look rather good on the girl, she tried to think of another that might work but before she could manage to come up with an actual idea the shopkeep was moving on to getting some jasmine to find.

She looked over the plant with a smile as she considered where to put it, she could get some sort of levitation charm to keep it by her window and have it drape over, perhaps could even replace her curtains in time, that would be very pretty and fairly cute to have as a house decoration, the breeze from the window could carry the scent of the plant around her flat.

"It looks great, a heating charm shouldn't be too hard to achieve, life tip if you ever get your own place, use a heating charm instead of paying for hot water, helps keep it cheaper if you can manage them." She was glad it was a magical solution to an additional home cost she could use. Same with using magic for cooling during the hotter months, she was glad she wasn't a muggle.

"Oh! What if you tried lavender? You may not even need to buy it in the colour, the Hogwarts library has a book on fashion spells, some of them are transfiguration for changing the colour pigments permanently, how to expand the pockets..." A lifesaver she was finding. "And how to get some difficult designs easily."

Gently she leaned in to smell the Jasmine and grinned. "How often does it need to be watered?" She just realized a flaw in her plan of getting a plant, remembering it exists.

Sam smiled as she thought of herself in that combination, she wasn't sure how well she can pull off such a look but there was only one way to find out after all, and it would look good at a concert wouldn't it? She was excited to try it out anyway. She continued to gaze over the other racks for other things to potentially add to the jumper and short short combo, maybe if they had good shoes to go with it or tights.

Nemo however had found something else, a suit that looked great! She smiled gently and wandered over to Nemo, eyeing it up, she seemed enthralled with it, the stain on it might be a problem as was any stain, but she thought she knew ways to clean it a bit of water and a spell potentially, that can come later however as she gently leaned in to take a better look.

"You'll look amazing in it." She hoped she didn't snap the musician out of her happy trance, she gave her a smile as she looked for a tag to indicate the pricing, even by the colour pricing method, she hoped it was cheap as it was a charity shop but sometimes it didn't really mean much. She guessed it might be somewhat expensive when compared to other items at the shop.

"What sort of tie do you think would work well? Ooor, a bowtie?" She started having a small look about before excitedly half skipping back with a navy blue tie that had small silver sequins studded over it to make it sparkle. "Too much?"

Rufus wasn't certain that he'd startled Lix so much more than than he had. But he had and exceedingly so. There was that fine, hair split moment to break out into a full blown mischievous grin for his success in his deception, however, chose against once Lix's brain kicked in. It was evident when those gears went into recognition mode, that Lix was finally catching up as to whom her personage was precisely.

What Rufus felt when her marvelous and wonderful hugs came through was receiving them from one of your best friends that you hadn't seen in ever such a long time. Which was evident in this case, considering he'd been an awful friend of sorts post the times spent as bedmates. Not the issue at the moment, not at all -- it was enjoying living the moment, being tightly hugged, causing him to oof! slightly, a chuckle leaving his lips. He appreciated it all, taking it all in, savoring the exchange, returning the favor with squeezing bear hugs for Lix.

"Glad to know I'm able to keep you on your toes still, literally and figuratively speaking, Healer Mordent," Rufus quipped with the long at last smirk showing itself. "Makes for an interesting conversation piece when you're not accustomed to seeing one of your bests." A few fingers moved the the strays hairs and tucked them gently, neatly behind her ear after one final for the moment squeeze. "Speaking of which, you look yourself like you're ready to pop off to the beach or somethin' of the sort. Me, though? I've got the gig[1] in tre days and I've got to get over to Pigs to meet with a distributor shortly. Kinda figured tho' it couldn't be all bad walking by Mung's and seeing if my very good friend is doing well off."

All smiles.

"She is, isn't she?"

1.	A Murder of Crows

"He is! He does," Athena said through a big cheshire cat grin, said of Vincent Fournier. She'd dipped at the knees to emphasize her delight at her current pairing.

"He bakes, love, I can't very well put him out," she added almost apologetically. Truth be told, Athena wasn't much sorry at all. She was cavalier about him, but the beast handler was a good and true wizard. A real genuine sort, not just fun and games.

 She found a stool to perch on, and returned the quick clink of a glass so they could proceed. Speaking of entanglements on the Creatures Floor...

"Is Wilhemena still trailing a werewolf safe house clerk?" she asked the Head of the Werewolf Wing. "She fancies herself subtle. Imagine."[1] The spokewitch of the Werewolf Wing has been having a little affair with some young wizard since April. There was nothing subtle about Wilhemena who behaved as if she was the star of her own WWN period drama.

1.	19 May 2012 - I'm Allowed A Little Fun

Cosima didn't move immediately to the typewriter. The cast of characters at Hogwarts, their rogue's gallery of teachers seemed to line up on stage in Cosima's imagination. By now, she knew many of them very well.

"Where to start..." she breathed. "You'll have Professor Storm. Ignan Storm. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. German. Very intimidating. But it's because wants to be, if you know what I mean. He's very strict and secretive. You'll meet him straight away as he coordinates the Sorting Ceremony."

"Um, and ... the nicest teacher is for Transfiguration, Professor Singh, who's also in charge of Gryffindor house. He's been everywhere in the world and he's tiger Animagus. Do you know about Animagi?"

Samantha was clever, Cosima knew, and from a partially magical family, but she didn't want to assume. "I don't want to assume. It's okay if you don't."

Agatha Pendragon clearly wasn’t satisfied with having spent the past several months locked up in exile with her elderly husband, she had to barge in and give her unsolicited comments too. Gen may have cut her down with a few comments of her own had she not been just a little smug at the fact that Cuffe’s stuck up skinny wife had been fingering the pages of Witch Weekly while cast out in darkness. It was apt, really, that Cuffe’s wife had taken such a distinct interest in his former employee’s little ant hill.

Cuffe started talking about squatting and wine, and Genevieve grinned. This was the sort of energy that she might have thrived on over the past several months of having Leo back in her life. But no, he’d upped and left with no trace.
“Welcome back.” she said. There was a moment’s pause before Gen even surprised herself.

Leaving her wineglass on the kitchen counter, she stepped up to Cuffe and hugged him.

Iona obviously agreed. She’d had an indescribable amount to lose. It had never been just her implicated by the job; and while she’d realised it, she’d never really understood it until the attack. Since the age of 19, it hadn’t been just her, for she’d quite literally fallen into Zora’s life. Then, eight years later, they’d brought Waverley into their lives. That made two people who had to bear the weight of the transformed witch every month. She wasn’t sure she’d ever thanked them for being there.

Bruce frowned, glancing over Louvelle. He’d explained he was lodging with Spectre. Whether alone or not, he’d not stated. Did he have anyone close in his life that had been affected by his own bite?

Allowing the healer to explain his plan made Iona slightly anxious. She knew she’d taken the potion which should dull the sensations, but the thought of anyone trying to manipulate her left leg set her desperately on edge. It was better, she accepted, to keep talking. The distraction helped a little. What it didn’t help with, however, was her stiffening as his hands found her thigh and ankle.

“Impolite!” Bruce burst out, a little more vigorous than she’d liked but the unpleasant sensation in her leg rather forced it out. She dug her fingernails into her hips. “Count yourself lucky, Robin. My face has been plastered all over the Daily Prophet so I’d settle for the pretence that people don’t see.
“I have a designated drawer at work, charmed to burn the howlers before they can open. It’s not because I’m the ex-Head of the WCU, either.”

Waverley lingered in the doorway, hovering between the safer corridor and the unfamiliar room. She was teetering, clearly unsure what to do, and Iona wasn’t quick enough to summon her over.

Thankfully, the mediwitch offered some advice, and it was all Waverley needed to bridge the distance and envelope her mother in a hug. Despite herself, Iona winced as Wav leaned onto her. Her leg may have been the worst of the injuries, but her stomach now bore a deep set of claw marks. Mercifully, potions and spells were working their magic on those lacerations. Werewolf scratches were far easier to heal than bites.

Despite the surging pain, Iona gripped Waverly as tightly as she could, closing her eyes and breathing her in. There’d been a moment before blacking out where she’d thought she may never get to hold her again. There’d been several moments when Iona had been quite certain she’d be making Zora a widow and leaving Waverley with only one parent.

 “I am.” Iona lied through tears as she weakly smoothed down Waverley’s curly hair. When Wav withdrew from the hug, Iona dropped her hands, clasping her daughters’ to give them what she attempted to be a squeeze. It only ended up being a weak grasp at best. “Going…” she paused, letting out a slow breath and closing her eyes. Resting her head against the pillow, Iona tried again. “Going to have some ah…some bad…badass scars.” She spoke slowly, as if something were affecting her speech. Being heavily dosed up on pain potions and sedatives did that to a person.

Waverly was fifteen, the adopted biracial daughter of an interracial lesbian couple. She was taller than most of the boys. She took up space, she stuck out. Auror mother, werewolf hunter other-mother. At this age, she was at war with herself, pulled between the sometimes opposed defiant self-love and the urgent need to fit in. Beautiful and strange. And now this.

The smell of the hospital made Waverley light-headed. On the long walk, Zora had been filling the air between them with choppy reassurances and recovery outlooks and warnings about what she'd see. Bitten up by a werewolf, but she's still your mum. Everything will be fine. Nasty on the leg, but Healer Marrowbone's optimistic. They've got her on a lot of potions. She's feeling well enough, but something about a long road and big changes and all of that.

"Mum..." Waverly choked on the sudden, violent frown. Her mum was crying, something Waverly didn't remember ever seeing her do. Tears, sure, the way the eyes well up when you laugh too hard or have to pull a shard of glass from the bottom of the foot, from a broken bottle on the sandy beach. Maybe she'd spied a bit of joyful moisture in Ollivanders four years ago when she'd first waved her very own wand.

But no, her mum was small and pale and sick and afraid in hospital bed and it was bone-cold and frightening. Waverly swallowed and approached, unsure of what to do. Should she cry? Was she allowed to touch her? There were no dramatic gashes across the face like werewolves from comic books and stage playbills.

"It's alright, love, giver her hug. See? She's alright," encouraged the mediwitch. "Just mind the leg."

With a big exhale, grateful for the instructions on how to mourn a mother, bent over the bed and wrapped her arms around her mum.

"You're okay?" she asked into her hair, her voice still thick and stuck.