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[attr="class","ctopline"]Would you go with me

[attr="class","cscriptde"]if we rolled down streets of fire

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[attr="class","clyrics"]Would you hold on to me tighter[break]
as the summer sun got higher

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[attr="class","cbody"]She’d decided to leave the manor for the day to head into London. It had been with a very specific purpose in mind, of course. Sloane had decided that she needed to visit her cousin and that she needed to bring him pasta salad. Once her mind had been set to something, there was little use in anyone attempting to change her mind—not that anyone had any reason to protest her little trip into London. Carlisle had been busy. Working on lesson plans or grading something, she didn’t know for sure. But that had been fine with her. She’d had plans for him, but they hadn’t been until later in the evening, so she’d been able to head off to London without worrying about it.
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It had been a successful lunch. She knew that Griff had been working a lot since the epidemic. Crime was up, which was to be expected in this kind of situation, and she knew that it was important for them to try to keep the peace. Or some semblance of it, anyway. They weren’t in anarchy or anything like that, so they had to be doing a decent enough job. But she had checked to see if he was working and he had been, so she figured she might as well bring him some food. She’d had enough free time to make some pasta salad—and her pasta salad was pretty good, in her opinion anyhow.
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But when that successful lunch had come to an end, it had been back to Eastend and back to her plans for the evening. She knew that Carlisle had been frustrated since the epidemic. Being a spell inventor without magic was… well, to put it harshly, it was sort of like being unemployed. There was literally no work that could be done. Sure, there was theory. But theory without the ability to test something out wasn’t going to be enough for any spell inventor and she certainly knew that it wasn’t enough for her husband. All he had to do was go in when the Wizengamot needed him and she knew that wasn’t a consistent job either. He’d been frustrated and she had just been letting him be frustrated. That was all she could do, really.
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She had her own problems to worry about, and if he wanted to be mad and frustrated about not having magic, he was well within his rights to do just that. In the meantime, she had just been focused on taking care of Brenna, of keeping the house going, and of hiding any and all proof that being a seer without magic was incredibly draining. It was exhausting, actually. More often than not, it came with incredibly vivid and chaotic visions in the form of nightmares. With having the control that she had over her visions when she had magic, it was harder to pull herself free from them. Most of the time, she couldn’t force herself to wake up no matter what was happening. That was worse than the ones that came when she was awake, but even those were more realistic and draining than they used to be.
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It was honestly a wonder that she’d been able to keep all of that from Carlisle. And she wasn’t even sure how well she was doing that. She just knew that he had lost his magic too and she wasn’t going to bother him with her problems. Instead, she’d just been trying to keep everything going. It was really the only choice that she had.
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But tonight, she’d decided that she needed to do something special to hopefully improve his mood. That meant cooking, obviously. She prided herself in actually being a good cook, but it still wasn’t every day that she went all out like this. She’d decided to make homemade tortellini with a parmesan cream sauce, garlic bread, Caprese salad and tiramisu for dessert.
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Was there a particular reason to cook in a nightgown and robe? No. But she certainly thought that it added to the aesthetic of the whole evening, which worked out well for her. She hadn’t seen Carlisle since she got home, but that was even better. The further along she got in the surprise, the better, in her opinion. The garlic bread was in the oven, the salad had been made, so she was certainly making progress. Making the tortellini had been the hardest part, and the most time-consuming. So, she had needed to take a break after that to grab a glass of cabernet. Leaning against the counter, she took a slow sip of the red while she tried to figure out what to do next.
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[attr="class","cnotes"]781 ● @carlisle ● outfit + outside set-up

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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WOULD YOU GO WITH ME

if we rolled down streets of fire

would you hold on to me tighter

The job at the school had been a good idea. He knew that he hadn’t had to try all that hard to convince Avery that it was a good idea to hire him, but he was still grateful. It got him out of the house, and he could feel like he was actually doing something. It was improving his mood greatly, and he didn’t feel like he was going to unjustly take it out on his wife anymore. She hadn’t deserved him biting her head off for things that were not her doing. It wasn’t her fault that he had felt cooped up and trapped. That had been on him, and he knew that it had made her happy, him not being up in that castle in Scotland anymore, but this was better anyway.

Those that were in his lectures now wanted to be there. He taught only one subject, as opposed to the great variety of things that were covered under the pretense of ‘Dark Arts’. And those that had chosen to study at Locksley were there for a purpose. They were there because they were all like-minded individuals. They were the ones that lived life on the offensive. They were the ones that had chosen a school that was going to make a name for itself in combat, and offensive tactics. A school that offered courses to train law enforcement, as well as others.

Weapons. Spells. Combat. Psychology. Curse-Breaking. All things that could be used further someone’s ambitions. Something that he could view as productive. And he knew that it was Sunday, and that he hadn’t had to go to the school at all today, but he had taken Brenna with him, and run in to grab some paperwork earlier. Sloane had been in London, and he had thought that she had said something about going to see Griff and running a few other errands. He had been half listening, more when she had said what had needed to be done for Brenna, but other than that, he thought that he had it covered.

He could manage to look after their daughter for the day, and still get his stuff done. Both of which would have been easier tasks if they would have had magic, but he knew that the elves had magic, and that helped. Carlisle knew that it had to be worse on his wife. He knew that she had to be dealing with things that she wasn’t telling him. The nightmares that he could feel in the middle of the night. When her body would go stiff, and still beside him. He had never been a deep sleeper, and he knew that she was struggling, but he didn’t want to know if she didn’t want him to.

Dealing with Sloane’s abilities was something that he had yet to really figure out. There was a thin line in what he thought would help, and what he thought would make her feel like he was treating her like a child. And thus far he had decided that if she wanted help, or if she wanted to talk about it, she would. And until then he would go on pretending that he didn’t know. He was well aware that there were not all that many people that knew that she was a Seer to begin with, and that meant that he couldn’t ask anyone for help knowing what to do.

She wasn’t going to be pleased if anyone else found out because he had been talking about it.

Finally venturing out of his study, he could smell the tell-tale signs of dinner coming from the kitchen, and he thought that Italian sounded good. He had heard her come home earlier, but he had assumed that she had gone to check on Brenna, whom he had been more than capable of taking care of, thank you very much, and then headed off to do her own thing. They were very good at knowing how much personal space the other needed, and when to show up. Or so he thought. He thought that he was rather good at gaging when he was supposed to be there, and when he was supposed to go away.

Leaning against the doorframe into the kitchen, he was a little disappointed that he hadn’t come out here sooner. If she was going to cook in something like that, he thought that it would have been well worth it to come and watch. His eyes followed her for a moment before he smirked and shook his head, “Did I miss some special occasion I’m going to hear about for the rest of the night? Or is this show just a treat?”

@ wife • 785 • carlisle's outfit - no glasses

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

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[attr="class","ctopline"]WOULD YOU GO WITH ME

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[attr="class","clyrics"]WOULD YOU HOLD ON TO ME TIGHTER[break]
AS THE SUMMER SUN GOT HIGHER

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[attr="class","cbody"]After the epidemic had hit, everything had been difficult for a while. That had been a bit of an understatement, but it wasn’t something that she liked to think all that much about now that she was past it. Her symptoms had been more severe than most, and she had never had a migraine like that before. It was incomparable to anything that she had ever felt in her life. There had been no solution for it, nothing that made the pain lessen, nothing that gave her even the slightest bit of relief. When the option of being put into a magically induced coma had come about, she had known that it was the only choice that she could make.
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It had not been an easy decision, of course. The word coma was not one that was taken lightly in the Yaxley family and, even if her last name was Rosier now, she was still a Yaxley. A coma had taken Griff from them for four years. There hadn’t been any guarantee of him waking up at the end of it, there had been no light at the end of the tunnel. He could have stayed in a coma for twenty years, for all they knew. There was just no way for them to know for sure.
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Sloane knew that there had been no guarantee that she would wake up either. They couldn’t promise it. Of course, there was a good chance that she would. Barring any complications, there shouldn’t have been any problems, but she did know that there was always that chance that she wouldn’t wake up again, and that had made it a hard choice. A difficult one. She knew that her family would not necessarily understand it or agree. But they couldn’t make that decision for her. It was something that she had needed to do.
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They could be upset with it, they could resent her for making that choice, but none of them could feel what she was feeling. None of them had been able to put themselves in her shoes and understand how awful it had been. Even though there had been risks, she had known that it was the right thing to do. And she had woken up. She had woken up with a less severe migraine and no magic, but she had woken up.
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Since then, though, there was no denying that things had been difficult. Coming to terms with being without magic was not an easy thing to do. Sloane didn’t need magic for her job, not really, but it was still hard to really adapt to something like that. For her, the worst part was not necessarily being without magic. As hard as it was being unable to wave her wand and solve a problem instantly, the hardest part came from the uncontrollable visions—and horrible nightmares. It had drained her terribly over the past couple of months, and she was doing her best to honestly just keep going. The last thing that she was going to do was complain about it. Carlisle was having a hard enough time with the loss of his own magic. He had been acting pissy and distant with her because of it, and she had done her best to grin and bear it since he was her husband, and he was obviously hurting.
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She was not normally the grin-and-bear-it type of wife. Normally, she’d have no problem smacking him upside the head for treating her like crap because of something that she had no control over. He was not the only one without magic. He was not the only one that had lost something. She had horrible nightmares and vividly realistic visions that she couldn’t pull free of, and she was not complaining. It was hard on her too, but she was still taking care of Brenna, keeping the household going, trying to get her stepchildren to tolerate her, and running the day-to-day operations of the distillery. It was frustrating when he lashed out at her when it wasn’t her fault, but she was definitely doing her best to understand why he was doing it. She was doing her best not to get frustrated outwardly, just for now anyway.
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It was why she was focused on something good for tonight. There was no way of knowing if he would even appreciate it. But she knew that she had to try. And she quite liked cooking in a nightgown and going all for something like this. If he didn’t appreciate it, then he didn’t appreciate it. But she’d enjoyed herself so far. Making tortellini by hand, making a significant dent in a bottle of cabernet—it had been a good night so far, in her opinion. Sloane had not expected to see Carlisle anytime soon, figuring there was a good chance she’d have to drag him from his study, so surprise was written plain on her face when she heard him speak. “Just a treat…” She smiled, before taking another sip of the wine. “Though I didn’t expect I’d be giving you a show.” Sloane hadn’t thought that he’d come out of his study in time to actually catch her cooking.
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[attr="class","cnotes"]866 ● @ husband ● outfit + outside set-up

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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