All that I'm after is a life full of laughter

As long as I'm laughing with you

Flecks of pollen danced through the air as the morning sun warmed the green house, its warmth was welcome as Kristina escaped the chill of the shop. During the morning hours it was easy to tell the age of the store as it let in the cold winter air through its windows in the night. It warmed up quickly, but every morning the chill was there. The small brunette had shuffled into the shop quickly and quietly trying her hardest to make sure her lateness went undetected. She was always late, and though the owner would give her grief he would smile and tell her to get to work. Today there was no sign of the man, and she had to flip the sign to open herself on the way in.

Kristina had propped the door to the green house open to let the warmer air enter the shop, the smell of soil followed it. Her shoulders dropped and the woman closed her dark brown eyes to take in the smell. Although the morning had been hectic, as every morning for her seemed to be, she found peace in the green house. Once she had filled herself with the calmness of her surroundings she went about her typical morning chores: watering the plants, sweeping up spilled soil from the floor, and trimming away dead leaves, branches or vines.

As she became engrossed in her chores she had forgotten to close the door leading to the green house; anyone could easily miss the "Do Not Enter: Employees Only" sign that was taped to it. The owner was firm that he did not want a single patron past the door at any time; it could prove unsafe for them, and the plants. One might not see the danger in such plants, especially when dealing with her current victim: the Alihotsy tree.

Kristina had been sweeping a small group of dead lady bugs when she had noticed a branch which had become browned, showing signs of death. In order to keep the seven foot tall free in perfect health she went to the green metal cabinet near the back of the green house and retrieved her sheers with all intents of removing the decay before it spread. As she returned to the tree she reached for the branch and as her fingertips touched the bark she let out a boisterous laugh. The Alihotsy tree, also known as the hyena tree, was known far and wide for its magical ability to induce hysterical laughter!

Her dainty hand dropped from the branch and she gazed at it with a gleeful grin, she could still feel the effects from the oil in the bark. Once more she grabbed the tree branch, erupting in giggles, before finally snipping the dead stalk free. Her giggles turned into a full belly laugh, and in her hysterics she hadn't noticed someone enter the green house. Kristina stood there, looking mostly insane, holding her sheers, a branch and cackling like a mad woman! 


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No Tags
Outfit: voi la!

She'd been meaning to pick up a few herbs for some of the household potions, as well as a soreness potion. Oh, they could be found at one of the other places-- but she did feel some sort of connection to Watson. It was the Quidditch player thing, she supposed-- well, if she could have been considered a Quidditch player long enough. It hadn't even been two seasons, after all.

She was still recovering from the Annual Broom Race, after all. Survived, placed, did well, only a few small burns. She flexed her arm, considering. Might have been worse, could have been. Nari was talking to her more, at least-- she had to thank Nick for that, and probably some of Ginny, who had kept the four kids contained during the race. She really, really owed her girlfriend-- tried to make it up shortly after, only to be shoved to a Healing tent, like she hadn't done this race for the past-- that was her twentieth, wasn't it? Funny, it didn't really sink in that it was two decades of that.

Maybe this would be the last. No, likely not-- it was a multiple of four, and not an auspicious one. She wasn't one for superstitions, really, especially ones that she'd never got a full handle on (eight was lucky, wasn't it? so wouldn't sixteen be good? Likely not, it was four fours, not just two eights.five was lucky as well, but what about four fives?) but just in case it might drive her mother to insisting she'd meet an early grave, better not.

She was wearing one of Ginny's jackets again, she thought. Or had it been hers that Ginny had borrowed often? She couldn't quite remember. The break was over, which while it did mean sending Nari, Lizzie, and Nick back to Hogwarts in the hands of Death Eaters, she could be. . . mostly content that Jin and Jian-Min were mostly safe in Singapore and South Korea. She missed her boys (it had been almost painful, being with three again, waking up next to someone, and she could pretend for a moment that the last five years didn't happen) but they were safe. Had to be.

She entered the greenhouse cautiously, drawn in by the sudden near-manical laughter, and taken aback by the brandishing shears, yes, she was pretty certain she could duck them, but. . .
"Pardon me," she called out carefully. "Are you quite all right?"

ALL THAT I'M AFTER IS A LIFE FULL OF LAUGHTER

AS LONG AS I'M LAUGHING WITH YOU

Years ago, when Kristina was wild and free she embarked on a miraculous adventure. She traveled over seas, deserts, forests, anywhere her heart and mind would take her to fill the need. It was always inside her, this need to grow and to know. Ever since she was a young girl aiding her grandmother in the garden she found that growth was what she was good at. Some would call it a green thumb, Kristina could grow almost anything and nurse even the most ill of flora back to health. It was her passion and she believed it was the passion itself which grew the plants. Through her very fingertips it would soak into the soil and the plants would know that she cared for them, deeply and truly. Hell, she cared more for her plants than nearly any human she could think of.

On this journey is where she first encountered the Alihotsy tree. Kristina has been in East Africa, Sudan to be exact, where the boarder of the country met the Red Sea. In a small village she had been lucky enough to meet a tribal shaman who taught her many things about the plants in his country and their uses for the tribe. While she was there two village women were attacked by a hippopotamus and killed. It shook the village to its core. Men were entrusted with the activity of gathering fresh water, and women and children were banned from the water's edge. Every year, the shaman had told her, the hippos would become extremely violent. A scientist would most likely explain it as a mating season, rutting or something of the like but the shaman told her of the "Hyena Tree".

Upon her first meeting with the tree she was apprehensive to believe the tribesman's tale, for the tree looked like a regular young Mopane tree to her. It was small, probably only eight feet high, with butterfly like leaves extending from every little branch. It wasn't until closer inspection that she found these leaves fluttered just like the wings of a butterfly, yet the surrounding trees remained still. The air made no sound, no breath of wind drawing past, it was still and in that moment she noticed that not a single bird had perched on this tree.

The shaman had explained that when the hippopotamus' become serious the tribe partook in an ancient ritual called "weghachi ọchị" or, roughly translated, "return the laughter". During this ritual the women of the village would collect the leaves from the Alihotsy tree, grind them to a paste and paint pictures of happiness of the men's bodies. As the women did this they would, of course, be consumed by laughter, bringing the spirits of the village higher. And as the men were adorned in the green paste they too would erupt with laughter. These tribal men would then go to the water's edge laughing as hard as their bellies could stand and dance into the water until the paste would come clean. Be it the noise of the laughter, or maybe the paste in the water, the hippo's would become calm once again, allowing the villagers to the waters edge without fear.

Alihotsy tree oils are very potent, he had explained to her, and the only way to close the weghachi ochi ceremony was to ingest the treacle from a Glumbumble. This treacle would put an end to the uncontrollable laughter the village had succumbed to, and he warned that without this the villagers would laugh themselves to death. Kristina had remembered seeing what appeared to be a small beehive near the shaman's hut but she had never suspected that he has harvesting the honey from these magical bee-like creatures. Before she parted from the tribe many weeks after the ceremony the shaman had given her a small amount of the honey to take with her in a small jar which he had hand carved from the trunk of a Mopane tree and inside was a tiny spoon carved from the tooth of a hippo.

Kristina held the branch and snips in her hand as the patron entered the green house, all the while she was laughing to the point of tears. She placed the snips down on the table next to the tree and used her free hand to brush away the happy tears running down her face. "Aye, aye I'm alright! " The small brunette bellowed. She hurried the branch over to the waste bin nearest to her cabinet of elixirs and tossed it in. "It's this damn Alihotsy, got me cacklin' like a jackal! "

Wiping her hands on her pants the best she could she once more wiped the tears from her face. It was for the best that she didn't spread the oils, it would only made her laughter more intense. Still chuckling she opened the cabinet of elixirs and pulled out her hand carved gift from the shaman. She filled her tiny spoon with a sampling of the treacle and shoved it into her giggling mouth. Within seconds her laughter slowed and then stopped all together. "Oh goodness, " she said rubbing her cheeks. "That kind of laughin' is a work out for the face! Wooh. Pardon me, ma'am, what can I do for ye today? "

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Tags: Cho Chang
Sorry, I got excited and maybe went a little overboard on words haha

She was relatively decent in Herbology, had passed that exam. Lucky her, because of that-- OWLs had finished up the day that the Triwizard Tournament had concluded-- Cedric had died later that day.He'd helped her study, she remembered, though she'd kept getting distracted by him, until he had put down his foot and said that he'd only reward her for thirty seconds if she got the answer right. He'd been serious too, and they'd joked about it, shortly before he went in--that he was half the motivation for her getting E's. For Herbology, he'd been a fan of tickling until she got the answer right, and Cho hadn't been able to stop laughing during the whole thing, even giggling to herself during the exams.

But she had never been great at the subject; it was a weaker point. Memorization she could do, and her mother had made sure she knew their Chinese names. She'd used them by mistake for some of the answers, gotten an E, and if she hadn't been mourning Cedric, might have worried that that was a reason why. She'd passed her OWL, but she hadn't gone on to take Herbology-- it had been too painful, too hard. Cedric had loved Herbology, had made her laugh, and at the time she picked classes, she had needed to be half away from him. She'd stayed with DADA, with Charms, with Transfiguration, Runes, Arithmency, and Muggle Studies. The six subjects had almost been too much for her, with all her studies--- but she hadn't needed them, not really, so she hadn't cared, once she'd gained enough motivation back to care about school.

What she knew about Potions was mostly the types that Quidditch players used, because she used them regularly, and the newer types of potions that she would buy for Jin that were hormone-related, potions to help with his transition. She didn't understand how the plants and bits of things combined, only that it really worked. Jae-gyu had been interested, and comparing them to the injections they'd known, and going off onto tangents and comparing the two under microscopes, doing research into the plants.

Cho had borne it, trying to read up on some things to nod around and have some clue of what they had been talking about, excited about things she took for granted. It was a privileged sort of lifelessness, she was aware-- her mother's family were fond of mentioning that their lines had been known before Britain was invaded by Vikings, and the few of her father's Hong Kong relatives said similar things. To Cho, it made a distance sort of sense that you put things in and mixed them and eventually got something else. She had never needed to know why; it just was. Perhaps it wasn't very Ravenclaw of her, but-- well. People could be Ravenclaws in different sorts of ways, and Cho had never leant much towards Potions or Herbology. She liked flight, calculating, writing, history-- things written down in ink and managed on brooms.

"Alihotsy," she repeated, trying to sound as if she knew what she was saying, and like she was aware of what the leaves looked like. Were they pointy? Segmented? Yellow? The worker clearly knew what they were doing, and soon the giggling stopped after a sort of potion.

"I'm looking for ingredients for soreness potions." She offered a half smile, dearly hoping that she wasn't asked more specific questions about what type of plants and freshness, that maybe only the type of relief looking for. Give her plants, and she'd brew it. That was roughly the extent of her held-over knowledge.

ALL THAT I'M AFTER IS A LIFE FULL OF LAUGHTER

AS LONG AS I'M LAUGHING WITH YOU

Kristina returned the wooden jar to it's home in the cabinet. Although her giggling had stop she found a smile peeking through her lips, as her fingers left the small jar she drew fondly of the memory of that shaman from so many years ago. The memory was sweet but the taste in her mouth was bitter as could be. The treacle, though honey-like in color and texture, tasted as if it were formed in a pile of dirty gym socks rather than a hive. The small brunette woman scurried over to the nearby sink. The old porcelain sink had seen better days, chipped and cracked and without a doubt as old as the building was. It looked like hell but the water was sweet and clean. 

As the woman spoke of concocting a soreness potion Kristina cranked the old handles on the faucet and nodded, brows furrowed with the disgust of the horrid taste swimming in her saliva. She bent over the sink to drink as the water sputtered out, her tippy toes barely reaching the floor. Not intending to she made a slurping noise before removing her head from the beat up sink. 

"Soreness, aye," She lifted a brow and flicked her hands under the water to remove the rest of the Alihotsy oils. "What kind of soreness are we speakin on? Rough night? Chronic? Pushed yerself a little too hard?" The sink whined as she wrenched the water to a halt; she wiped her hands once more on her pant thighs before whisking away a few droplets of water left on her chin onto her sleeve. Kristina turned to the woman, giving her undivided attention, she leaned against the old glugging sink. It slipped back slightly as her small frame pushed against it and threatened to give way but didn't.

"I'd give ye something else for a hangover versus a sprain, lass." She explained, her arms seemingly amused with a smirk on her face. She enjoyed being able to ask customers these questions. Not only were they pertinent in order for her to select the right herbs but it also gave her a window into their lives, much like a hairstylist might have with a customer in their chair. It was fun for her to indulge her imagination on the lives of her customers. The prim and proper head nurse with the frequent hangovers, the innocent and shy young lass asking for an herb to deter a pregnancy. It was like she had front row seating to their most inner selves.

That was the closest she got to most people, through the looking glass of her career. Kristina wasn't one to trust, and less of one to care for another in a deep and meaningful way. Sad as that was, it was true. Her entire life was built around lies, around pushing people away so they wouldn't know the real her. The lies were bricks in the walls she built up, a wall so high she could no longer see the other side, let alone the top. She had come to accept long ago that she would likely never love another, or let another love her. 

It was pleasant for her to see the love of others. So many times had she given potions for infertility to aid a couple in conceiving. Their love so full and overflowing that they had wanted to share it with a child. Kristina couldn't imagine that feeling. Her love was empty, just as empty as the ugly porcelain sink as it let out it's last glub and swallowed the water down the drain. Kristina tried to imagine the woman in front of her having a life. A life with love, a husband? Kids? She wished deeply that she could muster jealousy of such a wife, but she had none. There was nothing left in her but lies and knowledge.

She considered, taking stock of her body. What quite did she all need? Physical, from the flights, soreness from old injuries, soreness from mostly-Healed burns. What else would. . .oh. Oh yes. Most definitely not. She supposed that was technically an option, really. . .but no. No, definitely no.

"Ache-based, muscle and strain." She supposed that was the most accurate way to put it. "From races. Some for burns? They're mostly died down, but there's still some residual stiffness. You know what they say-- your body starts adding up the aches and pains, and then stops Healing as easily when it's decided it's had enough." And Maeve, to think she was only. . . thirty-seven? Was she thirty-eight-- yes, she was. Some Ravenclaw she was. Thirty-eight-- still young, not yet too near her forties. It was the flying, she was sure. And perhaps the Battle. Who knew what half the curses that had brushed her were? She wouldn't be surprised if there might have been one to slow down Healing some, or that was only an aftereffect.

Or maybe just her, and she was being paranoid. She'd certainly been Healed enough since the Battle (mostly from the Annual Broom Race, though a good amount from Quidditch) that she would have surely been informed. Maybe she'd ask Ginny to ask Demelza Robbins-- the woman was four years younger, but still in Quidditch. She'd ask the other racers, but there were few who raced as often and as long as she had. There were a vast amount of people she could theoretically ask about the Battle, but if it was specialized. . .

No, drop it. There was no use to stress about it, when it was likely just age and experiences taking their toll. Some might also be psychological, possibly. "Some older injuries-- a few curses, burns, the like-- too, but I suspect it might be better as a placebo."

ALL THAT I'M AFTER IS A LIFE FULL OF LAUGHTER

AS LONG AS I'M LAUGHING WITH YOU

Brewing potions had always come easily to Kristina. It was much like following a recipe for a meal, something she enjoyed doing with her grandmother when she was young, as long as the directions were followed the potion would likely turn out just fine. The issue she saw, more often than not, with people who came in search of pre-made solutions were those who figured they could skip a few steps while trying to brew their own. Potions could not be rushed, one could not muddle through them. They needed to be followed, word for word, to the tee. It was almost comical how many adult wizards were unable given all their training in school.

It always brought a smile to her face when someone was in search for ingredients instead of a simple concoction. No potion worked a well as one made by you, for you. Kristina did appreciate that this woman was willing to put in the work. From the sounds of it, the woman was used to hard work. Races and curse burns? Was she possibly an auror? She couldn't recognize her from any professional quidditch team, not that she followed them religiously, but she did watch them when she sat in the pub (which was more often that she cared to admit).

"Aye, the body can only take a beatin' so long. Then it says 'yer aff yer heid if ya think we're doin' that again." Kristina chuckled as she pushed off the sink. She tapped her chin with a dainty finger, wiggling her nose as she ran through her usual list of herbs to determine which ones would be best for the lass. "Let's see-" she skirted over to a small flowery plant, looking much like a lilly, "-Asphodel is quite good fer healin', buttttt...." She plucked a leaf from the plant. "I'd suggest maybe only half. It'll put ya on yer arse if ya use the whole thing. Good fer sleepin' potions, like Draught of Living Dead."

Kristina took a small brown paper bag from her apron, putting the leaf inside before whisking away to another plant. She froze for a moment, turning back to the woman. "On second thought, maybe only a third of the leaf... Just to be safe." She smiled brightly at the store patron. "So what sort of race were ye in? Foot? Broom? Sack?"

The joke, delivered in the Scottish accent so similar-- it started a laugh out of her. Dundee-born and raised, Qiū's childhood had not been full of the Queen's Accent that her mother's family had practiced. She'd always had to try to imitate her mother when with Singaporean relatives, because what if they'd noticed the difference and were even more disappointed in her? Qiū was already far too used to that.

"And then when you don't listen, it suddenly decides you have injuries that you need to take care of this very instant." For all the assistant seemed younger than her, she likely saw enough, knew enough to know how it goes, when you were still young, but your body was yowling you'd aged it years. The smile stayed as the laugh faded.

"Asphodel-- that's also in Wiggenweld, isn't it? Both sleeping and waking." Helpful, she supposed. There was a. . .myth or something, that everyone seemed to come in knowing, and Cho had had to read it when she was in Hogwarts to understand the jokes. There were fields of the plant. . .

"Half," she repeated. "Quantities exact? Or is, say, a little more or little less also working?" Jae-gyu would laugh at her, she knew, and often did when she was trying to find things out for them, when she'd lost patience, and simply waved it way as magic. She'd deserved it, as she'd grown more and more frazzled to understand it, until deciding she simply didn't care. Jin and Nari had sadly gotten their zither's curiosity, in finding out everything, in needing to know how magic worked, and she'd been so outnumbered.

". . Third, yes." Height and build based, maybe? She supposed that did make a sort of sense. Jae-gyu, she was sure, had known that. It wouldn't have surprised her, her Muggle spouse understanding how potions worked better than she, having a better knowledge. Jae-gyu would have been fantastic as a mage, but they'd been in love with science. She doubted they would have been as happy as a mage as they were non-magical

"Ehm? Oh, broom." She tilted her head. ". . sack races can cause harm? Have you experienced that?" She didn't quite understand-- did you try to bespell a sack across? Did you run with it on your head?

ALL THAT I'M AFTER IS A LIFE FULL OF LAUGHTER

AS LONG AS I'M LAUGHING WITH YOU

The patron was quite a few years older than herself, at least seven or eight she supposed. Possibly more, possibly less. She was a lovely lass, this much was true. She had spoke of having curse burns, something that would have floored her in an earlier time in her life, now she saw too much of it. Ever since the attack on Diagon Alley a year or so back she had an increase of patrons looking for something to help with the everlasting pain that some of those curses had caused. There was, of course, the old timers. Old timers, ha, not in that way, no! Old timers as in those around during the battle of Hogwarts, those who had seen the fall of Voldemort. Many of those survivors were regulars for her, she knew their names and faces well. Of course, it was only a small portion of those who survived. Kristina found herself wondering where this woman had received her scars...

"Aye, the body is no afraid to give ye a piece of yer own mind!" She chuckled. It was true, in her younger years she had been quite resilient. Able to bounce back from pulling an all nighter, no problem. Hangover, schmangover. Let's go again! Now, yeah right! She wasn't all that old... well, she didn't see herself as old, but her body had definitely aged. The hard part was getting the mind to age with it. Her youthful stubbornness was still there when it came to pressing her body further than it should go. Especially as of late, since she had took up heavy drinking. Her body made sure she was quite aware that it hadn't want to partake in her new adventures, yet she pushed it all the same.

"Wiggenweld, absolutely! The two counteract one another, both have the Asphodel in 'em. The root, of course. It's much more versatile than the leaves, me Lady." Kristina could feel herself going on a plant-splanation. Oh Merlin, help us all. "The leaves, however, hold an oil in them. Sort of like ivy. To the touch it's no bad for ye, but if it's to be boiled..." She raised her brows nodding with a smile, "On yer ass you'll be! The flower is quite harmless though. Quite a lovely lilly, really."

The woman asked of the quantities and confirmed what she had said. One-third. "A little more, a little less won't be the end of ye. If you're the kind who holds your liquor well I'd use a little more." Kristina wore a friendly smile as she spoke. This was the part of her job that she loved! Helping people with her knowledge all the while cracking little jokes.

The sack race thing had been a joke and she couldn't help but chuckle as the woman asked if she had ever seen a sack race cause harm. Had the woman even known what one was? "Aye," she giggled with a nod, "I've sustained injury myself from it! Took a bit of a tumble as a wee lass during a picnic. The damn potato sack was too big for me, had to hold it nearly to my ears! Went down like I was an actual sack of potatoes!" She mimed getting into and hopping in the sack as she spoke. Kristina was very expressive, miming things for no good reason at all when she told stories to anyone. It was a silly little quirk of hers. "If I recall, I think me ankle was bound up for a fortnight!"

"And we never quite appreciate it when we're younger enough to realize the boon we have until it's gone. But surely you're too young for that?" She knew de-aging potions worked wonders, but she was also certain that as little as she knew the woman in front of her, she didn't seem vain enough to do so. Then again, there were many things Cho didn't know about people. Her school years had been a lovely example of that. She'd first been naive enough to think that all sorts of children could get along, and that since You-Know-Who had fallen when they were all infants, everyone could get along, slights easily brushed away, because surely people were only repeating what they'd heard.

After Cedric died, after Riddle came back, that had not been the case. Cho had been stunned to find many of those she'd called friends break away from her, or suddenly become changed, more like their parents, the others simply dropping her when they hadn't know how to react, how to help her. Marietta had been the only who who'd stuck with her, and they'd lost contact after Hogwarts. It had been even worse her last year, when half her former friends had become even worse, outspoken in their prejudices. She supposed she'd might have brushed it away-- she was pureblood, and records of her bloodlines on near-all sides went back longer than most, so while she might have faced some xenophobia for being from a family so new to Britain, hers had already intermarried with other more established families. It had helped buy her some acceptance among the girls who had grown up visiting each other's manors, as Qiū attended Gordonstoun from her father's townhouse, and her personality had done the rest.

Would she recognize herself as she was then? She knew she would. Would the girl she had been recognize the woman she had become? That, she doubted more. Her younger self wouldn't have made the harder choices she had-- sending her children away without their consent, divorcing, seeing someone so soon after a more-or-less spouse's death. Her personality, perhaps, but her decisions. . .

Many of those she called friends probably wouldn't have. She'd've lost them sooner or later-- even had Riddle not risen, she would have lost them when she married someone they viewed as lesser. It made her so angry-- how could someone say that about people they'd never met? Even worse, how could people say that after meeting people? She knew what some would say-- there were sometimes exceptions, there was bound to be a Galleon in a barrel of rusted Knuts, which almost made it worse. Jae-gyu had been brilliant, yes. Brilliant, caring, a firework trapped in a small box, constrained only by time and morality. And Jae-gyu certainly wasn't alone in that. There were so many of Jae-gyu's friends who were similar, and while Jae-gyu-- Nari, wait hold on, there wasn't anything said about Nari, that was in English, which meant. . .

Lilies. Something about lilies? She gave a nod, hoping she hadn't been lost in her mind too obviously.