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"I don't know," he answered truthfully. At any point in time, he might answer differently. Sometimes he was filled with such unrest that the only logical way forward seemed to be to uproot himself and leave for somewhere, or something, else.

She wasn't wrong; he was at home here. It was safe, familiar territory. He fit nicely in such a sophisticated setting. A part of Prosper wanted her to know that he was all kinds of unsafe and unsophisticated, too. Just a couple of months ago, for example, he'd found himself wine-drunk with a group of friends on the roof of a building in Barcelona. They'd watched the moon set from their vantage point, all covered in glitter and silver paint from the night's antics as they talked about their biggest dreams and fears. He wasn't just made up of plush red seats in decadent theatres, or leotards or Shakespearean monologues. Spontaneity and the siren's call of far away places thrummed through him. Fear and uncertainty too.

"Why didn't I leave?" he repeated, distracted for a moment as he plucked a delicate champagne flute from one of the passing waiters. Why hadn't he left? Probably because of Zara, he thought. Zara and Diederik and his school and his friends. "I was a bit directionless," he admitted, "but my friends, the people I love - they were all in Paris. I didn't think I was ready to leave yet." He felt ready now, though. He'd been spending less and less time at his home in Paris, avoiding the place that felt too much like stagnation. Instead, he'd gone home to the outskirts of Dahliental for a while, then travelled again. A slight frown creased his handsome brow as he considered his answer post-speaking it. "I don't know," he said again. "I think I just..." Prosper trailed off, distracted by a small hand on his arm. He turned, still frowning a little.

"Luci," Prosper said blankly, a little surprised to see her again so soon after last time. He blinked, then smiled and leaned in to kiss her lightly on the cheek. It was very french of him, and typical. Looking at her now, Prosper supposed that it wasn't really that soon since he'd last seen her. He'd barely thought of her recently, but her presence seemed to shorted the distance between now and then considerably. The man didn't miss the quick once-over his ex girlfriend gave his date, or the slight disdain in her hazel eyes. She'd always been an expert at performing the emotions she wanted to show, and concealing the ones she didn't - she'd gotten better at it since they'd left school - but there were some things he could still read. That one was a touch too familiar.

"Am I bothering you?" he asked Ariane lightly, casually including her in the conversation. He gave her a warm smile. "Ariane, Luciana," he said, introducing them to each other. Turning his attention back to Luciana, Prosper's eyes flicked down her dress and then over at the girl by the wall staring at them. "Here with cousins?" he guessed. Luci's family was huge - so much bigger than his own. She was more jaded than she'd been in school, he decided. It had been less than two short years since they'd graduated but Luci had grown up a lot since then. He realised with a gentle shock that she wasn't the only one, either. He wasn't a boy anymore, but a man. Luciana was undoubtedly a woman. He remembered moments of vulnerability in her bed and in her bedroom; he'd seen moments where she'd looked like her younger self again - slight changes in her posture or the way she dropped her gaze when she cried - but the person in front of him now had none of that on display.

It was strange, he thought, to have their history here. It felt almost tangible to the young man, and he was extremely aware of the way it could alienate his new friend if focussed on or dredged up. Subconsciously, he moved towards Ari a bit, placing his hand in the dip of her back lightly.
London / Re: too late to fixate [darla]
« Last post by Darla Boyd on Today at 04:30:22 PM »
While Darla hadn’t commented on Edith’s threat, along with her friend swatting her plastic bag with personal belongings at her, it was undeniable that the gesture pissed her off beyond the healer’s own expectations. It was a good thing Edith was as blind as a bat without her glasses, or otherwise she would have seen a rage on her friend’s face she probably had never encountered before. The Scottish took a deep breath and mentally counted up to five so she would calm down a bit, while nudging Edith even harder on her back, as she secretly and very harshly judged her friend’s entire attitude. For someone who had been behind actual bars, the English definitely didn’t even think of acting a bit more tame, at least until they would be as far away as possible from that repulsing police station.

Darla took Edith to a local pub, a place nearby where she knew that there would be mostly wizards and witches. It was conveniently called ‘Prince Albert’s pub’ to lose itself in the mass of similar places, more frequented by muggles. Stepping inside, the healer felt ridiculously warm, despite wearing only her very thin tee. She was still filled with anger, rage, bitterness, ready to fight everyone and anyone over Edith’s lack of gratefulness and the fact that her favourite quidditch player had been so highly insulted that Darla felt her own honour had been attacked. Sitting Edith down, Darla took a deep breath as she threw her stuff on a chair. She didn’t take a seat herself, but instead ran both her hands through her hair as she stopped a waiter and asked for a generous pot of Earl Grey tea and two potato soups.

Edith’s words just continued adding fuel to the fire. Darla bit her lower lip in annoyance, the fact that her friend simply assuming the fact that she was just ‘mad’ and she ‘got that’ firing up this former Gryffindor even more. She completely ignored Edith’s inquiry about her glasses; while Darla had indeed retrieved them before leaving the West Ham pub, and fixed them as well, she really wasn’t in the mood of doing Edith any more services that day. Yet. Or perhaps she should do her friend one service now, as the healer definitely noticed before that her hand wasn’t looking quite perfect. It was a bit swollen, and from what she had touched before, Darla felt that some of the bones were fractured.

Pulling out her wand from her jeans’ back pocket, Darla flicked it as she sharply said the incantation. “Brackium Emendo.” There, that should do it. Placing her wand on the table with a loud noise, Darla finally took a seat at the table, opposite from Edith. The waiter soon brought them the Earl Grey tea and poured some for them in two cups. As he left, Darla took a sip out of hers and finally addressed Edith again, her Scottish accent being little said noticeable. “You look like a dug licking pish aff a nettle.” She nodded her head in disapproval, curls swaying in perfect synchronisation with her movements. “You know, you felon, Circenn was called a Shanghai Tsai because of you so you’d better act all nice and docile with me for a while unless you want me to punch you and break some bones I definitely won’t fix for you.”

Darla pulled out Edith’s newly fixed glasses from her hoodie’s pocket, which rested on the seat next to hers, and just about as she was going to hand them over to her friend, the healer realised that perhaps her fixing the Obliviator’s fracture with no previous notice still wasn’t enough of a punishment. “Hmm.” Darla let out, on the most natural of tones, pointing with her free hand towards the window. Surely Edith could tell her figure’s posture, no matter how blind she was without her glasses. “Three officers are coming this way. I think they saw you hitting me with your bag in front of the station and want to take you back. Merlin’s balls, those jobby flavoured fart lozenges are pulling out their handcuffs and tasers!” She gasped, her entire lie being far too believable for Edith not to fall for it. Now things were finally starting to get even. 
Today had been quite a peaceful day, much to Darla’s surprise. Usually December was by far the busiest month, particularly for the Paediatrics Ward, however that morning she hadn’t had any new patients. Of course, that fact offered the former Gryffindor the opportunity to visit the nurses’ quarters and give them little attentions, an early Christmas gift. That year, Darla had prepared a particularly fun (she thought) present, in the form of a small pin, which she intended on offering to each and every one of the staff with whom she collaborated on a daily basis. Naturally, she had given the Head Healer one as well, which had been very well-received, much to Darla’s joy. The nurses also terribly enjoyed the little attention, and kept Darla for a bit over an hour in their quarters, putting the young healer up-to-dare with all the possible gossip.

It had been particularly interesting because while Darla was generally very informed, she had found out some new things as well. For example, how Healer Mahoney got her slightly large nose fixed, now being perfectly flawless and her being ready to step in the dating battle field again, as she was more desperate than ever to marry, having already reached the age of forty. The nurses had been particularly stingy about Mahoney, as she was one of those healers who treated them all with superiority and didn’t even bother to learn their names. Seeing how vicious the nurses could be, Darla was suddenly grateful that she had learned each and all of their names, along with befriending them since she had first started her shifts at St. Mungo’s, when she was a healer-in-training. Now, she was quite close with most of them, and even if perhaps she had been a bit unbearable, Darla often made sure she’d pay them small attentions just in case; a package of green tea, invitations to lunch or midnight snacks during nightshifts, and of course, small gifts around every holiday.

Having escaped the nurses’ quarters, Darla made her way to the gifts shop, to also offer a pin to the shopkeeper there. She often visited the place, the former Gryffindor constantly purchasing plushies for her patients. It was already a habit of hers, to gift a little something to each of the children in her care, the degree of the plushie’s fanciness being perfectly proportionate to how much she had liked the child. Truthfully, she shouldn’t be playing favourites and Darla was well-aware of that, but buying something more than a chocolate frog for a child that pulled her hair or slapped her in the face wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

On her way out of the shop, Darla stopped for a second to look at the stuffed animals. One especially caught her attention, a teddy with a fancy hat, similar to Merlin’s. It was quite hilarious, and Darla was slightly tempted to buy one to place on her desk. Just as she was about to pick one up though, someone addressed her. It was a healer-in-training, a pretty young one, whom Darla remembered seeing before, but before even thinking of what her name was, the former Gryffindor’s eyes fell on the girl’s name tag. Those were truly handy sometimes, really.

Darla had desired to defend the honour of the plushies, as the idea seemed perfectly fabulous to her, however, before she could say anything, Damira went into the gossip sector, causing the healer to burst into laughter. “Healer Bayliss will probably need this shop’s plushies supply for an entire year to get his girlfriend to talk to him again, even for five minutes.” Darla nodded in disapproval, remembering how shocked she had first been when first finding out regarding this matter. She leaned in Damira’s direction, to whisper back some extra details. “Apparently, his girlfriend caught him right in the actual act, and he simply yelled out loud ‘it’s not what it looks like’. But I guess now he’s single enough for Healer Mahoney to make a move on him. Nurses say she’s pretty desperate.”

Darla picked up one of the teddies and left a few sickles on the counter, before turning around and placing her hand on Damira’s back, encouraging the younger girl to accompany her. She wasn’t really surprised that the healer-in-training was up-to-date with everything going on, as Darla herself had been quite informed when younger. The students were always the harshest judges, especially when their teachers were particularly unforgiving. And as far as she knew, Damira had one of the strictest supervisors. While Darla never worked personally with Healer Zakharova, the older witch’s reputation was well-known to her, and therefore it was no surprise one of her students was so eager to enjoy some fresh gossip.

“Enjoying your time at St. Mungo’s, little one?” Darla inquired, deciding to go for an appellative rather than mispronounce Damira’s name. “Rumour has it @Varvara Zakharova isn’t the most docile of supervisors.”
It was an impeccable December day. The sun was shining and yet the snow didn’t seem to melt at all, and while the wind was quite chilly, it was perfectly nice to watch it all from indoors. The view outside seemed almost like a painting, much to Darla’s pleasure. She regretted at first not picking today’s shift at St. Mungo’s, having previously thought that the weather wouldn’t be on her side at all. However, for the Scottish, today was similar to Scotland’s only day of summer per year – sunny and warm, yet still not quite overwhelmingly so.

That day, Darla scheduled to have lunch with her treasured cousin Mihwa. She particularly enjoyed her cousin’s presence, for she had always been one of the most feminine presences in her life, reminding Darla herself that she was also of the female sex, thing which she forgot a lot, mostly after spending time with her siblings. However, as lovely as her cousin may be, Darla was sure that she wouldn’t be the most punctual person ever; Mihwa had a habit of always being perfectly late, and after all this time, it somehow ended being one of her most charming traits. Reason as of why, the former Gryffindor, as she got on time to the pub the two were supposed to meet, had brought along with her the latest research paper on dragon pox.

In the hour that she waited at the pub, while enjoying some perfectly brewed green tea, Darla went through almost half of the paper. And just when she was about to start a new chapter, the healer heard a familiar voice in the form of a yawn. “Unnie…” She said, eyes raising from her book, and falling on her cousin’s familiar figure. While it was clear, to Darla at least, that Mihwa had probably rushed there, she had to admit that her cousin was particularly beautiful that day; perhaps her morning-at-noon aura was accentuating a certain freshness in her overall allure.

Darla closed her book and pushed it to a corner of the table as she started giggling upon hearing Mihwa’s ‘excuse’ and comment regarding the hour of their lunch. “No worries.” She said in Korean, Darla particularly enjoying talking in her maternal language when with her cousin. “You’ve arrived actually much earlier than I expected. I was thinking I would have to wait for one more hour.” Darla let out a soft laughter, as she picked up her cup from the table to take a sip of the green tea.

It was a great coincidence that she had already swallowed for Darla could’ve easily chocked upon hearing her cousin’s sudden and very direct question regarding her crush. Clearing her throat, the healer straightened her back as her curls swayed around her face. There had to be a good topic she could approach, something important enough for Mihwa to completely forget about the question she had asked. “Ya.” Darla tried to catch her cousin’s attention. “Samchon told eomma that you got a new job, congratulations! We should celebrate your success today!” She smiled a bit over-excitedly and raised her hand, to signal a waiter to come over and bring them two menus.

Surely, the job topic will distract Mihwa enough for her to forget that she asked Darla about her (sadly non-existent) love life. It was the perfect plan.
Luciana wrinkled her nose and waved a manicured hand dismissively as the waiter offered her some revolting looking quiche. She turned away, her dark hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves, and reached out instead for a glass of champagne off the next passing tray.

She was listening idly to her cousins babble. It had been something of a tradition for the extended Bertinelli family to attend a show each winter, and now that most of the younger generation were adults (or thereabouts) they did so without the watchful eye of their parents, aunts and uncles. Gisella was harping on about the score, whilst Alessia bitched mindlessly about the outfits other attendees were wearing. As she took a sip from her flute, Luciana’s doe eyes glanced around the room – and was not disappointed. There were all sorts of hideous ensembles, and she was increasingly glad she had made the effort to invest in a new gown of her own; it was a deep emerald with a plunging neckline, a split up the skirt, and it cinched in at her waist to accentuate her slight hourglass figure – and it was better than anything her relatives had turned up in.

”Oh, look at that dress – I wish I’d found something like that!”

The brunette turned to see where her cousin was pointing (very indiscreetly) across the foyer. Luciana had to wait for some guests to move out of the way, but when they did it was obvious where her attention was required: the dress in question was a neutral colour, a sort of beige or nude – it was hard to tell in this light – and made of clingy, but luxurious, silk. “Don’t be stupid Alessia, you’re not skinny enough.” It wasn’t intended as an insult; Alessia wasn’t fat, but she wasn’t a rake either. Silk was the kind of fabric that showed up even the slightest of lumps and bumps, but there were none to be found on the girl across the room. Luciana found herself looking her up and down, and then her attention was caught by the man accompanying her.

Luciana did a double take. Squinting just to be sure – yes, it was. It was Prosper. A scowl flashed across her soft features as she took another drink of her champagne. She wasn’t sure how she felt about her ex-boyfriend right now. The last time they’d seen one another Luciana had inadvertently revealed her status as an elemental, amongst other things. Other things being his obsession with Zoé Deveaux. Wait—

Luciana’s focus snapped back to the girl Prosper was with: pale, brunette – certainly his type. The elemental laughed aloud, much to the confusion of her companions. He really couldn’t help himself, even after Luciana had laid it out bare. Unless she was much mistaken, he was trying to find his Zoé substitute again. A deep-seated jealousy rose up in her chest and before she’d even thought through her next move, the former Ombrelune was striding over towards him.

All embarrassment from their previous encounter forgotten, Luciana fixed her face with a familiar smirk as she came up to the couple, placing her hand gently on his upper arm. “Prosper,” Her hazel eyes flicked over to his 'date' (for Luci presumed that was what she was) briefly, sizing her up now that they were face-to-face (pretty, but nothing special – just like Zoé), before returning to the former Papillonlisse without so much as a smile in the other girl’s direction. “I hope you’re not bothering this poor girl.”
Britain / Re: [Hartfield Quid Pitch] Pitch Perfect
« Last post by Kendrick Silverman on Today at 06:00:31 AM »
"OY!" Kendrick mouthed in big, exaggerated motions, spreading his arms wide to grab the attention of his quasi-doppelganger as first his, then @Jonathan Emerson's name was called for the Spiny Lumpsuckers. "Did you rig this thing?" The thirty-year-old hadn't expected to be called down to the pitch, given the sheer number of people who had put their name in the raffle. After all, Kendrick hadn't played much serious Quidditch in years. While he'd played Keeper for Gryffindor, after graduation his play had mostly been limited to a few pickup games with work friends or old school mates, other than the two years, still eight or so years ago, where he'd decided to play on a local league. In between the war, the plague, the wedding, the house decoration, and @Jocasta Silverman's promotion, Quidditch, being a demanding sport requiring a considerable number of players, had fallen down the list of his preferred forms of exercise in favor of more flexible activities. He'd tossed his name in the raffle for fun, though. Somewhere inside Kendrick was still a sixteen-year-old boy trying to relive his glory days under Captain @Fflur Blevins.

Consequently, here he was, dressed in some ostentatious (thankfully not hot pink) robes and holding a broom that was probably worth as much as the mortgage on their house. He squinted at his wife, shooting a cheeky grin and a thumbs up in her direction. The former Gryffindor was surprisingly not concerned about making a fool of himself in front of half of Wizarding Britain; confidence was never really something he had lacked, and while his team seemed decently competent (though both teams were oddly staffed with a considerable number of Ministry faces) he felt much less pressure to win than he had playing for Gryffindor. Maybe if Jon had been on the other team he'd have been motivated to rub a win in his friend's face, but as it was, he contented himself with imagining pointing out to their work friends that their team was surely doomed with him as Seeker.

Kendrick took off and hovered around the goalposts, looking down and trying not to feel too dizzy. Merlin, it really had been a long time since he was up this high. His broom was ultrasensitive and ultrapowerful, but there was only so much movement he was allowed to do when the other team had the Quaffle. Ken resisted the urge to zoom around in figure eights and watched as a former Auror he recognized and someone who vaguely registered as an IMC employee hurtled toward him.

His Keeper instincts had been honed by many years on the Gryffindor reserve or main team; Kendrick instinctively remembered how to read body language and anticipate the direction of the coming shot. Watching the young blond-haired man raise his arm with the Quaffle, Kendrick leaned to his right, as his body remembered, to block the shot, palm outstretched. Unfortunately, the former Gryffindor had completely forgotten, in that moment of autopilot, that this broom was not, in fact, the old Cleansweep Five he'd used thirteen years ago. He suddenly found himself zooming at a breakneck speed toward the stands, catching a glimpse of @Percival Ignatius Weasley just as he pulled himself together and carved out a U-turn, the Quaffle long since having flown through the hoop. "Broom technology's really come far, huh," he yelled to no one in particular, laughing to himself at what his face must have looked like to some of the Omnioculars that might have been pointed at him.

Diving down to scoop up the Quaffle before it hit the ground, Kendrick zoomed back up to play level and lobbed it at the nearest blue-robed Chaser, noting that the trajectory seemed a little high, curving unnecessarily. Fflur would have be disappointed at the lackluster quality of the pass, but he just hoped it wouldn't fall short of reaching them.

@Freya Trickett @Finn McKenzie @Frida Trickett
Announcements / Re: [Announcement] Quidditch World Cup News
« Last post by Valda Pavlycheva on Yesterday at 10:53:28 PM »
Country: Russia
Character: @Valda Pavlycheva

London / Re: slova kak spaseniye [will]
« Last post by William Dasher on Yesterday at 09:07:09 PM »
"I'll remember that," Will replied in a gruff voice. This was a whole new experience for him. He'd never been to Russia and Mr. Malenkov was the first Russian he'd had the pleasure of meeting. This restaurant felt like another universe. No one had looked up when two men had entered and they seemed rather invested in their own conversations. And the vodka magically appeared, too.

Despite blushing furiously, he managed to offer Arkadiy a wry smile. Honey wasn't the type of woman to ever be owned. He understood the other man was using the phrase your woman in a purely inoffensive way so he didn't respond to it right way. "Yeah, I'm not really a poetry reciting sort of guy," he replied as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck absently. He also wasn't sure if Honey was the type of girl who'd like to have her virtues extolled. The main issue he had was that neither of them were wanting to label whatever this was.

He hated introducing her to people as his "friend" when they were clearly past that point now. Will hadn't wanted to push but he was having a pretty hard time coping. She'd quickly become his be all and end all and he was not at all confident enough to start reading her poetry, despite how good it was.

At his core, Will was very English indeed. The candid and unapologetic way Arkadiy was discussing sex (in public!) was making him feel distinctly uncomfortable. But he needed help. Though he wasn't inexperienced, he was very new to the art of wooing. In the past, he'd sort of just given up and let his partner to whatever she wanted and he went along with it. It'd be easy to do that with Honey, too, but he wanted to be special to her. He frowned suddenly; they were definitely going to have to have The Conversation soon.

"Hm?" William asked, snapping out of it suddenly as he focused on the cigarettes. "Go ahead," he said, gesturing with his left hand casually. Though he didn't smoke, he didn't have many strong feelings on the subject. He eyed the new glass of vodka with trepidation, his fingers itching to take hold of the glass but he hesitated.

He imagined he'd ask Arkadiy about what he should do later on but he was aware that not all women were the same. He'd toyed with the idea of giving the poetry book to Honey for Christmas, as well as other stuff. But did that feel like self promotion? As he'd been the one to sign Mr. Malenkov? Oh why was dating such a bloody minefield?

He blinked at the veg, pausing as he thought that it seemed a strange accompaniment to vodka. Still, it chewed on a pickled tomato, just so not to be rude to his companion. "How's the wife?" He asked amiably with a smile. He'd met her briefly. By "briefly", he meant less than thirty seconds as she hurtled in, pushed her bewildered husband at him, blew them both a kiss and bolted. "She seems nice," he managed to say carefully. Deep down, he though the little French whirlwind was absolutely bananas but he knew better to voice that opinion.

"Got her Christmas present yet?" Will asked Arkadiy, sort of hoping he might have some pointers as to what he could get Honey, too. He hoped he wasn't being a terrible boyfriend but he was utterly clueless.
Ever since she had started working at St. Mungo’s, Darla had become tragically aware of the fact that December was always the busiest month for a healer. Not only that everyone was in such a rush with the upcoming holidays that they didn’t even pay attention to themselves, but some individuals also didn’t pay proper attention to their children. It was particularly unpleasant because many little ones came to the Paediatrics Ward with problems that could have been avoided quite easily during a normal season; for example, Darla had spent her entire morning treating children who had been eating the wrong amount of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and were now having severe tummy aches.

After spending one entire hour treating just little Henry, who had been quite difficult, slapping, screaming, crying and eventually pulling Darla’s hair and completely messing up her two previously perfect buns and eating one of her ribbons while stealing the other, the healer went to her office to finish completing the little one’s file. However, the young witch had found herself being completely exhausted, and ended up just resting her head on the desk, in the hope of finally getting some rest (and a well-deserved power nap). The children though didn’t know the notion of privacy, as always – little Marnie just barged in Darla’s office, door opening as wide as she could, hitting the wall, the impact’s noise causing the former Gryffindor to jump up from her seat.

Darla, Santa, Santa! Marnie squeaked with joy, as she stretched out her hand towards the healer, so she could show her the way towards the children’s favourite person ever. As Marnie started pulling Darla through the hallway, one of the former Gryffindor’s rebellious curls got stuck in some tinsel, and she had let go of the little girl’s very tight grip. “Go on ahead sweetie, I’ll come and greet Santa too.” And so Marnie went ahead as Darla drew out her wand and took out the tinsel from her hair, and arranged the decoration back on the wall. Remembering that young Henry completely destroyed her ribbons and messed up her rebellious curls more than usual, Darla figured that the tinsel was actually better than nothing. Taking back the piece of green tinsel (to match her lime green robes), Darla arranged her hair in a ponytail and gathered it with the Christmas decoration. It was unquestionably better than nothing, as whenever she had her hair loose, it was quite the adventure, for her curls were always tempting the children to pull them as hard as possible; definitely not the best side of being a paediatrician.

The young witch completely forgot why she was on the hallway, but she remembered quickly enough, for the children wouldn’t stop running around towards the main hallway. Picking up one of her younger patients, as one would figure that a three year old should not be running around after the seven year olds, Darla made her way among the excited children who were eager to talk to Santa. It was weird however, because Darla was pretty sure that at the last weekly meeting they had voted that Santa would visit on Christmas Eve. The sudden change of plans hadn’t been on her notes either, and especially during December she was particularly thorough with everything.

Passing on the little one to a nurse as soon as he ran into one, Darla’s eyes widened in surprise as her jaw dropped upon seeing who the Santa all the kids were so excited about was. Her seeing her much-loved Uncle Jon playing the part of Santa quite perfectly, Darla’s cheeks flushed, her hands now covering both her cheeks to hide her rosiness. It was a sudden amalgam of emotions; firstly, she was very embarrassed that the children had mistaken him for Santa, as Darla felt like she hadn’t done well enough in educating them, even if that wasn’t her role at all. Secondly, the entire scene was so endearing that she couldn’t help but feel her chest warming up at the loveliness of it all. Hands down, Jonathan senior was obviously the most amazingly adorable person ever. Thirdly, a bit of her couldn’t wait to tell every single detail of this beautiful painting to the much younger Jon. It was definitely something his son should know, right? He unquestionably had some serious competition in every one of the little children at Mungo’s, Darla could tell.

Lastly, the former Gryffindor made a mental note never to set a meeting with Jonathan senior at the hospital again. He already worked so much at the Ministry that, even though it was absolutely adorable, Darla felt pretty bad to have put one of her favourite people in the situation of doing extra work. Much to her surprise, her uncle noticed her and winked in her direction, Darla returning the gesture and silently mouthing herself that he is the best person ever, which was undeniably true.

The requests session soon ended and Darla started giggling excitedly as Jonathan senior approached her and encouraged her to take his arm, which she quickly did. She had liked this certain gesture of his ever since she was a little girl, and even forced her brothers into adopting it as well. “Not at all! I’m sorry the children bothered you, but you’re an angel for playing along.” Darla gently hugged his arm, before loosening her embrace. He was probably tired enough from the children’s hyperactivity, surely he needn’t have any more of that from her.

“I have all the time in the world for my favourite uncle. Let’s go to the café.” Darla encouraged Jonathan senior to take the hallway to the right, which lead directly to the visitors’ tearoom. “They have the best green tea right now, I pushed for this specific mixture to be served – “ She nodded, quite proud of herself. “ – it’s both very calming, warm and yet very invigorating. The perfect mix after dealing with the kids.” Darla giggled, slightly embarrassed that Jonathan senior had ended up doing the work they were generally paying people to do. Maybe she could arrange for her uncle to receive a gift from the Ward as a reward, perhaps one of their mascot plushies with a shirt with his name written on it, surrounded by a lot of hearts. That seemed like a good choice actually, and she will definitely mention it at her end-of-shift meeting.

“How are you though, Uncle Jon? Surely you didn’t drop by just to play Santa.” She inquired, taking a step ahead and pushing the café’s door with her shoulder, before Jonathan senior would offer to open the door, like the perfect gentleman that he was. “Let’s sit there, on the best sofa!” Darla pointed towards a sofa in the one of the corners, next to a window. Normally, it was the sofa on which she napped in between patient visits, however, today it was the perfect place to host her uncle. The best sofa for the best uncle, it seemed like the perfect combination.
The Sorting Hat / Re: Sort me!
« Last post by Jet Dylan on Yesterday at 07:38:43 PM »
Character's name: @Jet Dylan
Link to character's EFBs (if applicable): ---
Does this character have an approved special feature? If so, please link to the application: ---

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