The thing about studying artifacts, at least for Edolie Fern, was that they encompassed every bit of your attention until suddenly, hours have gone by. For Edie, it was crucial that she correctly identify each and every antique item, book, shoe, or whatever that came through the museum. She took extensive notes on each one of them so that future curators or historians would have an accurate record.

A job well done also meant that Edolie forgot all about her other senses. Her mind flowed straight to the relic, ignoring any sensations of hunger, thirst, or the passage of time. Once she finished, however, Edie quickly realized that she was in fact starving and in desperate need of food. Luckily, the museum's employee cafeteria was not too far from her office.

She made it there without starving to death and was extra thankful for the personalized menus for each employee. She was especially grateful for this as she watched the man in front of her receive a pile of greasy, cheesy, unidentifiable junk on his plate. It was difficult for Edolie not to wrinkle her nose in disgust -- even the smell was too much for the all-organic vegetarian.

Without having to request it, Edie received a salad complete with avocado slices, her favorite. She wasn't entirely sure if she trusted the avocados in England -- they weren't exactly native to that area -- but magic made many things possible. She grabbed a juice as well and took her seat. Forking some salad into her mouth, she chewed on it thoughtfully, thinking about what other historical items she'd have to officiate.

“May I join you?”


Not long after Edolie had settled in, Idara shortly appeared, having finished some of her own work and, deciding to grab a bite before her next meeting, popped by the cafeteria in search of something to eat. Although, honestly, it was more of a subtle crack! than anything else, really.

Nearly a week after the first statements had been gathered, the senior curator found herself busier than ever; with a recent issue of the Prophet trumpeting the theft, its effects were still keenly felt in the form of anxious benefactors and fellow curators alike. They were all worried that their priceless donations would be next. And when worries began… Idara had spent the rest of the week soothing fears and confirming (sweetly, gently—never ever desperately) loans. It simply wouldn’t do to let the museum fall apart, especially now.

The museum will remember your generosity, she’d told one; your contribution will be placed under our strongest protections, she’d told another. We have upgraded our security since. There will be no repeat of the event…

Perhaps her eyes had been a touch bluer then, a few times. Perhaps her tone had been subtly laced with a certain je ne sais quoi—allowing it to resonate at a level far more primal than mere ears. Perhaps she’d drawn closer than was proper—lowered her gaze, to better draw another—before meeting it just to secure her hold. But one could hardly prove anything now, could they? More importantly, the Museum was still standing on firm legs. And not once had Idara ever hidden (been less than) what she was…

Edolie Fern, at least, seemed to understand that, if she cared at all. Idara had had more than her fair share of fielding hostility from other women, and found it tiresome. Worse, it was detrimental to a workplace’s efficiency. But Edolie Fern was a witch quite happily preoccupied with her own work, and a professional at that. So far she had proven herself to be a pleasure to work with, which Idara valued, and so looked forward to getting to know her better.

Edolie had been in the middle of thinking about the cherished apples that had been stolen just a few days earlier. They had been of some value, but Edie was still left mystified. She did not understand the purpose of stealing an item from a museum. Wasn't the point to share history and learn about the past communally? There was no better place Edolie could think of that would be a better home for such artifacts than the Museum.

"May I join you?"

At this, Edolie looked up to see Idara Whitman, another one of the museum's curators who had been dealing with the brunt of the robbery's public relations. "Of course!" Edolie said cheerfully, her azure eyes brightening congenially. Though Edolie did not know much about her co-worker, Idara seemed to be a well-traveled woman with interesting stories to share. That made her completely intriguing to Edolie, who never failed to be captivated by a good story.

"How have things.... been?" Edolie asked lightly. It was quite possible that Idara had come to eat and forget about her dealings with the press, so Edie left the question vague and open-ended. The last thing she wanted to do was send the woman who kept the Museum held together off on a bender. What Edolie wanted to do most of all was help wherever she could.