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[attr="class","title-elizaveta"] Wagon wheel

[attr="class","subtitle-elizaveta"]Rock me momma like the wind and the rain
Rock me momma like a south bound train

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Elizaveta wasn't particularly bothered by losing her magic. Maybe it was that she'd lost it relatively late, that she'd had about a month of warning, that had helped. Sure, she'd avoided Pyxis, because she didn't have the insurance, but she. . .managed, mostly. Domum was down to. . .roughly, she'd felt pretty guilty about it. And the same with Centre! Peverell hadn't done much better, she'd heard, and true this was five months over, but she'd been just starting out. The missed month of work had impacted the relations she'd made with other teachers and the kids, and . . .well, kids made up their minds easily.

She'd settled in, and the kids liked her. Those who weren't Domum's kids trusted easily, and she felt a little comfortable glow when the first had ran up to her to show off the clay worms he'd made in the garlic press. Cleaning them up wasn't much different, and so relationships with the kids wasn't hard, not really, but. . . .

It took time to settle in, Elizaveta knew that. How long had it taken her at Domum? A shorter time, admittedly, as the fact that she was cousins with Willa had made it easier, as had the fact that she knew a good amount of the other mentors from Hogwarts by face, if not by name. Jiao-Long was dating Charlotte, after all, Alejandra and Lalasa a year younger, Nessa and Ella friends with Willa. There was that leg-up, and she'd needed to win the trust of the kids first.

And now, she had that. But it was so stupidly awkward when the other teachers talked about going out for dinner the other night or someone's baby shower and she hadn't been invited along. She got it, really-- she was the new one, just out of uni, so she was expected to be a heavier drinker, thought to be more irresponsible. And she wasn't, really-- wine hurt her throat. Besides, all the student bars she'd avoided anyway. Didn't want to risk running into her or her brothers-- they'd really spoil the night.

A shadow fell across her lap, and her hand jerked, a line of charcoal smearing across the half-abandoned rough sketch she had. Actually-- "Hey, hi." She pressed a quick smile. "Sorry if this is weird-- d'you mind if I sketch you like that?"

[attr="class","tags1"]☆ @open, 386 words ☆

[attr="class","credz1"]❤fai

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Rock me momma

like the wind and the rain

Rock me momma like a south bound train

There was really no reason that he should have been all the way out here. Sidhe was far off the beaten path, and you really only knew it was there if you’d been here before. He had though, been here before. He knew that this was where Genevieve came to get all of her potion ingredients. He had been sent to the apothecary here a few times over the years. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to run errands for Sloane now, but back then? He hadn’t done a whole lot for Gen, and he knew it. He knew that he had been a relatively crappy husband when it came down to it.

Only now things had changed. And he had chosen Sloane over Gen. He had made that choice, and he was glad that he had. It made it harder on the kids, he knew that. But he also thought that in a way, this was better for them. He knew that Genevieve had moved in with her sister. That she was living in one of the cottages at Ffynone, and that was fine. He didn’t think that that hurt his children at all. But they lived with him, most of the time. He and Sloane had the children quite a bit, and Edmund had Westerlies to himself.

It worked out. But for the life of him, Carlisle didn’t know why he had ended up here, of all places. He had just been wandering. He felt like he had been wandering since September. He couldn’t do his job. He didn’t even really have a job. Sloane could still work. She could still craft her vodka, and she could still run the distillery, even from here. He had heard her mention something about opening another one here in the U.K. and if that was what she wanted to do, he wouldn’t get in her way. But he could admit that he was frustrated.

He was frustrated that her career hadn’t been affected all that much. That sure, things she had done with magic before now had to be done by hand. But he couldn’t do anything. He didn’t have all that many skills when it came to actually doing a job. He hadn’t had one for a long time, and he had the Wizengamot, but that wasn’t the same, and he didn’t actually like the Wizengamot. He liked Spell Invention. And he had grown to like Hogwarts. And now he had neither of those things to occupy his time.

The frustration that he felt was something that he thought that others were feeling too. Rodolphus had gone back to working in the Ministry, and Carlisle didn’t know what to think about that, other than the fact that he had to understand. That the frustration that they felt was real on a number of levels. To be powerless, to feel like there was nothing that you could do anymore. It was a sickening feeling. Stripping them of their magic had taken something away that was supposed to have been in every part of their being.

Looking up at the sound of a voice Carlisle was surprised. He hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings and he hadn’t even realized that there was someone else out here. “Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow at her, sketch him? Who went around asking people if they could sketch them?

@ blonde stranger • 568 • carlisle's outfit

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[attr="class","title-elizaveta"] Wagon wheel

[attr="class","subtitle-elizaveta"]Rock me momma like the wind and the rain
Rock me momma like a south bound train

[attr="class","wordz-elizaveta"]
It was the worst sort of stereotype that artists would simply ask someone to sketch them, or be willing to do this for free. Elizaveta had done her fair share of asking for Sickles for a sketch of a friend when she hadn't been doing an art assignment, after all. But right now, her head was full and her thoughts were jumbled and circling, and a landscape sketch wouldn't have done the trick. If she was in her classroom, she could have likely started a ceramic project, but as it was, she had no magic and there had been no way to get there at once.

The stranger who had answered her was surprised, and Elizaveta let a bashful smile twist her lips. "I'm the art teacher at my primary school, and I'm about to start teaching my older students how to do profiles later this week." It wasn't the complete truth, but she'd make it the truth. There were some of the ten-year-olds that were about ready, after all. The last art teacher had been rather good at what they did, so they'd applied to Peverell after seven or eight years at Centre, and she'd taken their spot. They could handle it, yes.

"I hope I'm not being too blunt-- you've a strong profile that would translate easily to introducing them on the grid." She was trying not to sound too desperate, but the excuse of teaching kids was far more likely to be received better than I need to get out of my head, and it sounded less like a come-on. After all, she definitely didn't want to imply any sort of that thing going on.

Elizaveta wiped her hands on her skirt, smile still fixed on. Actually, thinking better of this, the quality of the man's clothing, he might either think of this as his due or as an insult. It all really depended, and maybe she should have stuck to the landscape or just have not spoken up at all. He was definitely someone who was considered important, she was sure, and she was not thankfully. But she did know two things, at least: 1) he hadn't been one of those who had killed her family, and 2) she was an adult now, grown enough not to lash out at the world or anyone tangentially related like she had with Aveline.

No, she decided firmly. Even if he mentioned being a Death eater, she'd keep professional, keep in her head. This would be necessary, a learning experience/chance of growth for her. If he agreed that was. "Of course, if you'd prefer not, I'm very sorry for the interruption to your day."

[attr="class","tags1"]☆ @older blonde stranger, 446 words ☆

[attr="class","credz1"]❤fai

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ROCK ME MOMMA

LIKE THE WIND AND THE RAIN

ROCK ME MOMMA LIKE A SOUTH BOUND TRAIN

Just getting out of England for a while was something that he had needed to do. Carlisle wasn’t even entirely sure how he had ended up here, of all places, but he was glad that he had. It was nice to get away from everything, to not really have anyone know who he was, and to just think. Because he hadn’t had a lot of time to do that lately… Carlisle could practically hear himself roll his eyes at that thought. That was all that he had done lately. Wander around and think. He was worried about how this was affecting everyone, but the long-term effects were more of his concern than dealing with it right now.

The effects that were going to shut down the magical race as they knew it if this continued. Stripping everyone but those that were seemingly immune to it once they were eighteen. He didn’t know how many immune people were out there, but he had seen a fair few. He knew that Griff still had his magic. Someone had told him that Shacklebolt did. He knew that Malfoy did. There were plenty of those that were high up in whatever this was that seemed to have their magic still, but for every one that did, it seemed like five more did not. And Carlisle didn’t like that math.

He didn’t like thinking that they were going to lose magic here in Britain, because of this. And he knew that it had to have run it’s course by now. It couldn’t live forever. But as long as they were studying it there were going to be live strains, and that meant that his kids could still get sick. Ed had been sick when he and Sloane had. Somehow Gen had managed to escape the whole thing, but the rest of them hadn’t. They had all been hit, and his ex-wife hadn’t even gloated all that much. She had simply taken care of Edmund, and not said a word.

That had been how Carlisle knew that it was bad. Because while they weren’t the worst of enemies, they were not friends. They got along well enough, nearly as well as they had when they had been married in the first place, which was a testament to how badly that marriage had been progressing to begin with. They had been together since before Gen had even graduated from Hogwarts, and while he was well aware that that type of marriage could work, Lucius and Narcissa were still together after all, and they had been together nearly as long as Carlisle had been alive, but they were the exception.

When the girl started to speak, he nodded. Art teacher. That made a little more sense. But it was still quite the odd request. “You want a bunch of little kids to learn to draw me?” There was amusement in his voice, thinking about the number of people that didn’t like him, that were likely to have kids going to… Whatever school it was that she had just said. His own kids had been tutored at home, Gen had handled all of that, and he thought that they would either keep Brenna home, or send her to the best school they could find. But he couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

“You know what… Sure. Why not?” The whole concept was amusing him a good deal, and he could at least sit here and brood while she got something accomplished. Then maybe he wasn’t wandering around without any purpose. And it was an added benefit that she didn’t seem to know who he was at all. Not that he excepted everyone to, not in the least. But sometimes people did. And it was enough to have them walking in the other direction. Let alone asking to draw him. Sketch him. Whatever.

@ naïve blonde witch • 644 • carlisle's outfit

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