Charming is a Victorian Era Harry Potter roleplay set primarily in the village of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the non-canon village of Irvingly. Characters of all classes, both magical and muggle — and even non-human! — are welcome.
With a member driven story line, monthly games and events, and a friendly and drama-free community focused on quality over quantity, the only thing you can be sure of is fun!
"Are you always this forward?" He asked teasingly since it would be a very short thread if he just ignored her entirely. — Tobin Cartwright in Take A Peek
Did you know? Churchgoers and worshippers had to endure a foul stench during prayers due to the amount of bodies often stored within the vaults of churches and chapels.
Despite almost being suffocated to death by a star chart the previous day, Ada had quite readily put herself back in the vicinity of more paper as she held no grudge against dead tree material for the attempt on her life. Obviously it was a spiteful witch or wizard who was to blame for cursing the large piece of parchment, rather than being the fault of the tree.
However, Ada wasn't hovering around the astronomy books today. Not that it had anything to do with the incident, she wasn't avoiding them, it was more that she was in an artsy mood. Now that might have had something to do with the smothering the day before.
She was intently studying a book on paintings and other artforms by wizards and witches of the Renaissance era, when she flicked to a fresco she found especially eye-catching, even if it was only in black and white. "Don't you think this is striking?" she asked her chaperone, holding the book out towards the older woman. Except it wasn't Mrs. Daye at all, it was some poor fellow who had just wanted to browse the book shop without being bothered by strange women wielding books.
It was, of course, hardly unusual to find Donovan in a bookshop, considering his interests--though, to be fair, he was more often at the library in London, for obvious practical reasons--though today he'd come with little true purpose. He sometimes found excellent books that way, just chancing upon them, though mostly he probably made a nuisance of himself hanging about too long. At least he didn't mean to be a nuisance?
Donovan had nearly finished with one particular aisle when someone spoke. Looking up from the shelf in front of him at the lady, and then down at the book, Donovan leaned forward slightly to better see what she was referring to. It seemed ungentlemanly to leave a lady unanswered, so he said, "I can't say that paintings are particularly my area," he warned, "but yes, I'd say so."
Unless something very peculiar had happened to Mrs. Daye's voice, Mrs. Daye wasn't the one speaking to her. Ada looked up from the picture and saw that it was definitely not Mrs. Daye, not unless she had managed to take polyjuice potion, but seeing as the woman in question was a short distance behind the man that seemed highly unlikely. "Oh, I thought you were my chaperone!" She clapped a hand to her mouth and blushed slightly in her embarrassment.
"Not that I think you look anything like my chaperone, of course," she added with an embarrassed giggle, hand dropping to her side again. He really didn't look a thing like her chaperone, but she hadn't exactly been looking at him before to notice that. "Please, forgive me for disturbing you with my fresco fascination." Ada smiled sheepishly.
Donovan smiled good-naturedly. "That's all right. I'm always happy to give my opinion when called upon." It probably helped that it was relatively difficult to offend him most of the time. "Uneducated in this instance though it unforunately is, I'm afraid." At least he tried, for what that was worth.
"Nonsense!" she admonished jovially. "One doesn't need any sort of education to find something visually pleasing! It's an opinion no less valid than that of someone who claims to be an expert. The most famous artists aren't as deeply respected as they are because their work only appeals to a handful of snobs who like to think of themselves of experts when they probably couldn't even draw a stickfigure." Realizing she had spoken a touch more forcefully than was maybe necessary or ladylike, Ada donned an appropriately embarrassed expression. She cleared her throat awkwardly and snapped the book shut, unable to hold back a sheepish grin as she diverted her eyes from his. Merlin, how far had she inserted her foot into her mouth?
Donovan hardly minded a lack of ladylike behavior--well, within reason, he supposed--as he certainly wasn't unaccustomed to spending time with ladies who were a bit more unconventional than simply having a strong opinion about art. "You're quite right," Donovan agreed. "And if I'm not mistaken, many artists were not even recognized as anything worthwhile during their lifetime, so I'm not sure how valuable expert opinion truly is." He probably ought to be careful with such statements, considering he was, after all, an academic by "trade," so to speak, but one could argue he'd also know better on that subject then many.
He seemed relatively unperturbed by her forwardness which filled her enough confidence that she forgot her embarrassment entirely. "That's true, I wonder how many artists there are struggling right this very moment to gain recognition, who may very well die in a sorrowful state, never to know how their work will one day be lauded as masterpieces!" Not for one second did Ada wonder if her art would ever be appreciated in such a way. "One of my favorite artists," she began flicking through pages of the book again in hopes of finding a sample of his work, "went unappreciated his whole life, and I can never understand how when his paintings look like this," she held out the book on the page she had finally stopped at.
Before proffering it towards him, she had merely glanced for the briefest moment having spotted the artist's name on the neighboring page. It had completely skipped her notice which of his paintings was on display, and as such, she was now unwittingly showing him a nude portrait.
Donovan dutifully looked down at the portrait--and then, just as quickly, looked away, embarrassed and coughing awkwardly as he said, "Er, yes, well. It's... ah..." What was a socially acceptable thing to comment on about a nude portrait? He pretended to be suddenly very interested in something on another shelf. "I'm sure he's very... er... talented at what he does."
His reaction was... odd, to say the least. Ada frowned lightly in confusion and then looked at the book. Oh. She turned scarlet. "Ahhh, that's- That's not- He's painted many other things that involve less..." she panicked for an appropriate word, "flesh." Not the word she wanted. Ada took the book back and started flicking through the pages to show him these fabled paintings of no nudity, but then after glimpsing more 'flesh', she decided it was best to just put the damn thing back. So she did, a little more impatiently than she usually did with books, especially ones that weren't hers. "I do apologize!" Although it almost certainly wasn't the case, she suddenly felt like this was why she was still unmarried.
"It's all right," Donovan said automatically, though a bit weakly. He was quite at a loss for what to say otherwise, however. Nothing quite ended a conversation abruptly like unexpected nudity. Not that he had experience in this. "Artists do tend to have a more... er... liberal way of looking at things, don't they?"
"Yes, I suppose they do," she agreed, blush deepening even as she spoke. "I'm quite fond of painting in my spare time, but I don't ever paint..." Ada trailed off and pointedly glanced towards the book where it now sat on its shelf. "Nothing like that." Nor did she ever intend to, for a multitude of reasons besides the embarrassment she'd feel just trying.
"There are so many other things to paint," Donovan said, gesturing vaguely. He was trying to find something to say, but somehow everything that came to mind was terrible. Dear Merlin, why was he still talking? "Like... flowers?" That almost immediately seemed like an unfortunate suggestion. "Sunsets, perhaps."
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