Lucy Davis on RolePlayer.me - www.roleplayer.me/LovelyLucyDavis Lucy Davis
HP Marauder Era only. Let me be perfectly clear: I am here to write. If, for some ungodly reason, you find sentence structure insufficiently titillating and believe "lets bang" to be an appropriate first conversation, kindly leave.

Female
59 years old
Brighton, East Sussex
United Kingdom

Last Login:
October 22 2020

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General
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Basics
Full Name: Lucille (Lucy) Alexandria Davis
Nicknames: Loops, Luce, Lulu, Looks
Date Of Birth: July 1st 1961
Hair Color: blonde
Eye Color: blue
Height: 5.4
Wand: Hornbeam wood with a Phoenix feather core 10 �" and Slightly Springy flexibility
Patronus: Dapple Grey Stallion
Family & Relationships
Mother: Fiona Davis
Father: Thaddeus Davis
Other Family: None of your damn business
Sexual Orientation: None of your damn business
Relationship Status: None of your damn business
Current Relationship(S): None of your damn business
Past Relationship(S): None of your damn business
Education & Employment
School Hogwarts
House Slytherin
Top Marks Potions
Low Marks History of Magic
Occupation: Chaser, Swooping Swallows
Skills: Quidditch, positions, resting bitch face
Personality
Traits: Shy, hotheaded, defensive, protective
Quirks: Input Info
Habits: Input Info

Kind and shy around her peers, Lucy tends to come off as standoffish and quite menacing to strangers. Beware.

Media Mentions

Witch Weekly: "Hottest in Quidditch (Minor League) of 1980"
Daily Prophet: "First Female Chaser for the Swooping Swallows"
Daily Prophet: "Davis is survived by his wife Finoa and daughter Lucy."
Movies
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They used to shout my name, now they whisper it.
Never Trust a Snake

"Us snakes are smarter than the lions; we don't form silly bonds with those who will one day come along and stab us in the back."

The moment the raggedy hat touched her head it thought to play a joke, insolently suggesting she join the lions. This was considered a moment longer than necessary, as Sirius had taken those colors a year prior, but no more. Born to a pureblood family, raied alongside the Blacks, and Reg already sorted made the decision an easy one. Her relationship with Sirius was never quite the same.

Murder and Mayhem � Secrets Unfold

�We regret to inform you of the passing of Mr. Thaddeus Davis. He served us well.� - April �74

The death of the patriarch while working for the Ministry caused her mother, who had already been mentally unstable, to completely lose her grip on reality; she was hospitalized in St. Mungos, a few weeks later and moved to a muggle psychiatric hospital once the healer's concluded that no magical intervention could be enacted. Sirius, Regulus and Mr. and Mrs. Black are the only ones privy to this shameful secret.

With no parents, and hardly any funds, the Dark Lord provided the sums necessary for her mother's care, while the Black family, already used to having Lucy during the summer, invited her to live with them.

It was only several years later that she discovered that her father had been brutally lynched by three co-workers, their identities unknown. An obsession with vengeance ensues; seeking to annihilate a corrupt system, her decision is made to join the force that sought to bring the Ministry down, the Death Eater; this, very much in spite of her utter disagreement with the Dark Lord's view on muggles.

Swallow like a Good Girl

Always a valued player for the Slytherin team, Lucy joins the little known "Swooping Swallows�; the first female to ever wear the team colors; their captain's choice to have them reside in the same household and her teammates' rowdy nature, often makes headlines and many scandals were appear in the papers (see Rita Skeeter�s varied articles on the topic). So, an obscure team gains notoriety.

A Very Bad Girl

�Sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me.�

Lucy knew how to savor the sensation of the slow ebb of human blood onto her fingers; she could even enjoy them, when there was a purpose. She rejoiced in the torture of Ministry officials, getting them closer to her goal, replacing the regime.

Reformation

The pointless murder and torture of muggles was not something she approved of. Despite her upbringing, she never believed in blood statuses, this made it difficult for her to remain among the Death Eaters. One in particular enjoyed using imperio, making her perform heinous acts, causing her to emerge in the aftermath. The murder of children, their twisted expressionless faces, were the final blow. She deserted, joining the order few weeks before the Dark Lord's demise.

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     Lucy Davis 's Details
Body type:No Answer
Height:0"0'
Characters: Lucy Davis
Verses: Harry Potter, Marauder Era only
Length: Multi Para, Novella, Para
Genre: Fantasy, Open,
Member Since:July 21, 2011



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   Lucy Davis 's Blurbs
About me:
Who I'd like to meet:
Lucille (Lucy) Alexandra Davis
Verses HP/open to suggestions Writing Style Multi-para to Novella Dues S (1) C (3) M (0)
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stag.

Oct 20th 2020 - 11:29 AM


How different she was now. Even the way Lucy carried herself was worlds away from the blonde teenager he’d once held in his arms. Though he tried to be flippant, to be confident and cool in the wake of destiny’s crossroads, he couldn’t help but mourn the loss of who she’d once been. The girl he knew he’d been on the verge of falling in love with. This war had casualties of all kinds, but admittedly, he hadn’t expected this one, despite hearing from Sirius that she’d taken this path. If they’d stayed together, would this all be different? Would he be on that side of the bars with her? Or would she have been the one at his side uttering vows behind a wide smile? None of these thoughts lingered for long, as he had a family to think of. A family that he would desperately try to get back to. 

As Lucy drew near, he felt himself lean towards the bars, as if pulled in by her gravity once more. James set his jaw firmly as a smile spread across her face, but it didn’t elicit the glorious heat it once had, this one sent a chill down his spine. “Charming. So thoughtful.” He muttered through gritted teeth, surprised by the brief contact that seemed to affect them both in spite of their best efforts to maintain composure. 

Composure, how the hell was he supposed to remain composed in this situation? As she continued on with her new hobbies and lifestyle, he felt his stomach turn and swallowed hard. This was a mess. A nightmare and he’d known this all along. However, standing before her now, made the reality of it all so much clearer and more devastating. It reminded him why he and Lily had been fighting against all this in the first place. 

Murder. How she uttered the notion with a truly sickening sense of delight. Granted, he was no hero anymore, he’d killed a few people in the throes of battle, but he didn’t find it thrilling. When Lucy leaned back, he blinked a few times and took in a deep breath to try to keep his temper from flaring out of control, to keep whatever edge he had here intact. 

As if he really had an edge. As if he even had a chance in this. “We were kids, I always understood why you weren’t ready for that.” The admission was almost as tender as the memory of sneaking into dark classrooms with her. Of propping her up against walls or desks to snog her towards that abyss that they never crashed into. Her touch was clearly meant to rattle him, and he was determined to not let it. Pretending to ignore her touch, he lifted his chin and pressed his lips in a tight line. “It wasn’t a-” He wasn’t even sure where he was going with the remark, but it was silenced by the crash of her lips onto his. 

It didn’t taste like redhot heat and passion anymore, but he’d be lying to say he didn’t feel the flicker of their once-upon-a-time chemistry. But the distinct feeling of betrayal coursed through him. His wife was out there, alone in the effort to protect their son. Once she released him, he shook the bars angrily and glared at her, “F*** you.” The words came out on a dark hiss and he was reminded of how desperately he needed to get out of here. 

“What are you even doing in here? Just trying to mess with my head? Trying to make me tell you something juicy to tell your new sh*tty best friends?!” Pushing back from the bars, he stormed around his cell a bit, as he spoke, clearly shaken and upset, “Well, f*** you. There is nothing that I could or would tell you.” 

 
stag.

Sep 21st 2020 - 4:21 PM



 

The metal bars were cold and unforgiving, much like the blue of Lucy Davis’ eyes as he’d looked into them as he’d been dragged from Godric’s Hollow. So had his assumptions been true? That he’d meant less to her than he’d wanted to? With a flash of fury in the quiet room, he shook the bars angrily, but to no avail. Forehead pressed against them as he sighed heavily.

It was a lot to process. Just a couple of hours ago, he’d been sitting on the floor with Harry as he popped candies into his mouth and laughed. Maybe it was too much to process and he’d black out before he could possibly reckon with all that had just transpired.

But then, her voice caused his head to snap up and watch as the blonde beauty stroder into the room. Lucy was all cool and collected, a lovely shell of the teenager whose cheeks he’d stroked intimately in hidden passages and empty classrooms. They’d been something. He’d meant something to her. Once upon a time, maybe.

There she was. All calm and casual, as if they’d kept in touch. As if they weren’t rivals now. As if she hadn’t turned up to his house to watch his son be murdered over the supposedly prophetic words of some nut. Hazel eyes narrowed curiously as she sat down, the action more elegant than it should have been. A chair appeared in his cell and he glanced at it, kicking it over instead of sitting on it.

Arms draped through the bars of the cell, “...I’ll stand, Lucy.” There was no warmth in his tone, as he cleared his throat and waved a hand dismissively, “...Well. I thought that was rather obvious. After we broke up, I got with Lily.” Somehow, he managed to carry on conversationally as if his entire world hadn’t just been ripped apart at the seams. 

 

“We got married. I got my nineteen year old wife pregnant and your new bestie decided he was going to believe some prophecy about him and try to murder a baby.” Not just any baby of course. His baby. There was a click in his jaw as his composure waned slightly, but he tried to cling to the knowledge that Lily and Harry were still free. That his wife was as brilliant as she was beautiful and she would hide where no one would ever find them.

“That’s apparently your scene these days. As you showed up to watch my corpse get cold. It’s almost touching really.” Sarcasm curled around his voice before he gestured towards her, “And you? What bullsh*t has been your thing besides murder these days?”

 
stag.

Jun 12th 2020 - 9:23 AM




"The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."
 
October 31, 1981

It started like any other day. Up before dawn when their son called out for them. A family breakfast, and a day of playing interspersed with short naps. Except today was a particularly special day, it was Harry’s second Halloween, but the first that the boy was at least partially excited about. Lily had stitched him together a fawn costume from a brown set of pajamas, and when she rounded the corner with Harry fully dressed James completely lit up. “Oh, Harry, you look fantastic!” The toddler gurgled in excited reply, babbling a few ‘word’ and the two young parents laughed. The sound died on their lips just a bit too early. 

It wasn’t wise to take him outside and trick-or-treating; so they would do as they’d done for two years, they would stay in and make the best of it. Around the house were random bowls of candies and they watched as he went from bowl to bowl, pausing to look up at them each time before laughing as he grabbed a fistful of candy. Eventually he’d had his fill of wandering and the fawn-clad toddler dropped to the ground to begin pulling at the wrappers to eat his treats. Each victory of unwrapping it was met with a squeal of delight as he popped it into his mouth and they let him a few more than usual. James settled on the ground to help, while Lily collected all but a couple candies and left to put them away. Alone with his son, he looked up at the sound of his sweet plea.

"Moh! Moh!" 
"You've had a lot of candies and Mummy said no more..." 
"Moh...Pease?"
 
Wide green eyes blinked up at him in quick succession, all wide and full of wonder, the child's ability to strip him of his fortitude astounding. His lips twitched, trying to remain firm, but easing into a crooked smirk as he sighed in defeat. "...Just one more, but this is the last one, alright? I know it's Halloween and that's quite special." With that, he extended one more candy to the instantly gleeful child who laughed and took it, immediately eating it as James scooped him up. A lilting voice beckoned him from a room or two away, and he moved to meet Lily at the bottom of the stairs.
 
Harry was long done with the candy, but as he licked his fingers, the redhead turned a suspicious gaze on him. "...Hmm... how strange, I just cleaned his hands a couple minutes ago, funny how they got chocolate on them..." Feigning innocence as she took the babbling child from his arms, he laughed, "Oh, that IS strange!" Rolling her eyes, she swatted at his chest, which made him grin, "He looked at me with those eyes and you know how badly I fare against those eyes..." The answer earned him a coy smirk from the witch, "...Oh, I'm quite aware, James." Stooping slightly, he ruffled the boys hair, "Goodnight Harry, Daddy loves you." A small hand touched his cheek and he smiled warmly. Pressing to his temple, earning a happy coo as Lily turned, and then disappeared up the stairs to put him to bed.

James Potter met his young wife at the bottom of the stairs after she put Harry to bed, tenderly kissing her forehead as his hands came to rest atop her slender shoulders. “…You honestly think he’ll sleep?” He asked her sheepishly, whilst dipping his head to the left questioningly, “I may or may not have given him a few too many candies…” he admitted coyly with a typical grin upon his face. Lily’s nervousness was far more tangible tonight, and it seemed that not even his playful ways could fully break through it, though she tried. The redhead gave him a terse smile as she pretended to chastise him, “You’re getting sloppy, Potter. Your partner in crime was wearing the evidence…” To which he could only chuckle as he scratched at the back of his head. 

They were twenty one years old, wearing haunted expressions far beyond their years; unfairly familiar with the agony of anxiety, the fear of the unknown. It surrounded the Potters every day, forever threatening to strangle the life out of them. He had just drawn a breath to respond, when both of their attentions turned rapidly to their front door, suddenly aglow with activity. Raw instinct immediately took the place of emotion. For the first time in their life, James threw his arm forcefully against Lily, pushing her behind him far more roughly than he would ever have consciously done. The terror of the moment was realized instantly; their lives had slipped through their fingers and dissolved into the worst case scenario. 

As the door shuddered and exploded open, James looked back at his wife, shouting desperately over the chaos unfolding before them, “Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! GO!” Firmly setting himself between her and the Dark Lord as he entered, he reminded himself to fear nothing. Lily and he had decided to live their lives like that before they were even out of Hogwarts; when they’d accepted the cost of being together. “Run! I’ll hold him off-!” Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he realized that was probably the last time he’d ever see that scarlet mane of hair; the flash of those beautiful green eyes. He hadn’t even thought to tell her he loved her one last time. Or goodbye. How desperately he wanted to call out to her, to beg her to tell Harry every single day how much he had loved them both. Time was running out. 

Voldemort strode confidently into his foyer as if he’d always known it would come to this. It had been awhile, years since their eyes had met, but he still recalled that final offer from the dark wizard. ‘Join me. Your muggle-born wife and yourself, James Potter. Join me and known true power.’ James had spit at him. Always too stubborn. Always too proud. This was his last-stitch effort to distract them long enough to let Lily lift the wards so she could apparate. There was no version of this that didn’t end in his sacrifice and he knew that, made peace with it even. Hazel eyes swept the space around him, desperately searching for his wand. Nothing. F***. Cloaked Death Eaters began to enter the Potter’s home as well, flanking their master with chins lifted high. Their pride was evident, even if he couldn’t see the smirks on their faces. 

So this was it. His final moments. Showtime. So he clapped. “Bravo, assholes. You found us.” Starting it off with a crooked smirk, he was half listening up the stairs, desperate to hear the crack of apparation, that would tell him that Lily was gone. If he could just manage to survive until then, to captivate them just long enough. James knew he’d infuriated at least one of them when he heard a single sharp intake of air, and it deepened his amusement. Voldemort hadn’t faltered and instead just raised his wand, which made a horrible chill run down his spine. “AVADA KA-” CRACK!!! It was a sharp, resonating kind of sound and it made the dark wizard pause instantly. 

James’ tall frame had straightened, proudly preparing for the impact of the killing curse that hung half-finished in the air. Until that beautiful, glorious sound stopped Voldemort and the five or so Death Eaters that currently occupied his front hallway where they stood. Wide, hazel eyes snapped open and he whirled around to look up the stairs, where an uncomfortable silence fell over them. Each breath he took was deeper than the last, as he began to border on hyperventilating. She’d done it. Lily had lifted the wards and gotten away with Harry. For today, they’d survived and that made scalding hot tears stung his eyes. 

Voldemort reeled, immediately understanding what had happened by James’ reaction alone. Anger like he’d never seen washed over him and he pointed to the stairs, shouting some order at his followers to check for the baby. Relief and excitement made his stomach twist, because it no longer mattered what happened to him. They would never find Lily; they’d missed their chance, of that much he was sure. The next command instructed them to take James with them, which came as a surprise to him. Rosier was quickly behind him, forcing his arms sharply behind his back to force metal handcuffs upon him, even though it was marginally painful, he managed to smirk, “Careful, Rosier, I just might like it rough.” If they were going to keep him alive in hopes to find his wife, then he would unleash his own version of terror upon them. 

Looking at Voldemort as they passed, James grinned and winked, “Solid effort, V. 6 out of 10, and I’m a fantastic consolation prize.” Though he wasn’t granted an audible response, he felt the wizard’s gaze narrow upon him which amused him as Rosier pointedly shoved him harder for it. “You’ll never find her. She’ll never let you find our son again.” The tension in the room began to rise and it was then that Voldemort ordered them to get the ‘blood traitor’ out of his sight. A wicked grin crept onto James Potter’s lips as he erupted into a disturbed fit of laughter, the sound was twisted, dark, remorseful lined with an edge of relief. 

As Rosier shoved him forward towards the front door, he came face to face with a familiar face. All blonde, fair and beautiful, like she'd always been. It made the mirth and mocking amusement fade from his expression as he looked upon her face for a long moment before speaking. “....Lucy.” It was uttered almost breathlessly, as he tried to wrap his mind around her presence here, she’d either come here with the intention of helping to facilitate his murder, or bear witness to it. Both options that made his blood run a bit colder in his veins. “Came to watch me die? How touching.” He spit the bitter remark at her at the same time that Rosier thrust him out the door and then apparated away with him. 

Proudly, James lifted his chin as he was roughly shoved down the twisting hallways of this Death Eater safehouse. Though he was being proverbially herded like a rabid animal, he wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing his fear, seeing his worry, seeing his apprehension. His wife and son were safe, and that’s all that mattered now. Eventually, they reached a cell with two empty cells on either side and Rosier pushed him to his knees inside of it before unlocking the handcuffs. Rubbing his wrists now that the too-tight metal was, he hastily pushed himself back up, whirling around just as the cell door slammed shut. “Aww, not staying to chat with me, Rosier? I really felt like we were bonding!”

The Death Eater’s shoulders stiffened and that was enough to let James know he’d annoyed him. Hands wound around the cold metal bars and he finally had a second to reflect on what had just occurred. Kissing Harry’s head and then… shoving Lily away from him, pleading with her to run had somehow given way to this. Gaze began searching the walls of his cell, pressing against each one, hoping for a secret to reveal itself. There had been raucous conversation nearby, but it had faded, giving him a chance to think, to begin to strategize on just how he would get out of here. 

 
𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫,

Mar 28th 2020 - 10:11 PM


thicker than blood,
It wasn’t out of the ordinary, the admission given in light of all that had gone on. The moment Lucy stepped foot on her doorstep, covered in blood – there wasn’t much Charlotte could do but contemplate. Which way this puzzle piece fit and which way that one did. She was ever so keen on observation, finding it easy to make sense of situations that others normally didn’t; and she thought, perhaps, that that was partially why her old friend had made do with coming this way. But the other part, the raven knew, was because there was trust in their relationship – trust that certain things could be kept a secret, trust that certain things could remain between them. There was – possibly – no one else that Lucy might have felt that sort of care with, and so Charlotte cherished it. Even if it made her uneasy, even if she didn’t understand.

Blue hues traveled along the length of the blonde’s forearm, covered still but burning with the heat of something dangerous that lay beneath the surface. Charlotte had learned to become aware of the notion, having been exposed through her brother’s dealings long ago. Thus, she simply raised her teacup to her lips and took a sip, reveling in the heat that way, as well. She licked her lips thereafter, setting the porcelain down, fingers curled around the mug, tapping lightly against the smooth, warm surface.

I see,” was all she said for a moment after silence had elapsed long enough to provide pause for thought, movement for speech.

Charlotte reclined in her seat, sitting gracefully as her hand gently turned the cup within her palm a slight degree left. It wasn’t that this ‘task’ presented to her was impossible, nor that the puzzle presented was unsolvable; why she had a thousand different ways to make right of the situation. However, the trouble came in figuring which way suited her friend’s demeanor. There was the soft aspect – a dedicated gentle approach; and there was the tough love notion, in which pushing to the limit might bend, or it might break the psyche. She wasn’t sure just how deep down the rabbit hole both were willing to go, especially Lucy in this trying time. Questions were to be had, information to be found.

Well. . .” The brunette leaned forward, slowly pushing her cup out of the way with a gentle finger. “This is quite a predicament, isn’t it?” Her eyes drifted from the cup toward the other sat across, chewing lightly at her lower lip in thought. Her head canted to the side, curious in its deception but observing still with a kindness not often bestowed. “Naturally, I can help you. Memories are. . . fickle things, but not impossible to restore. My brother, in his time in Eastern Europe, learned a few. . . well, let’s say magic tricks . . . that we could implement, if you’re willing.
stag.

Feb 13th 2020 - 8:53 PM


'All the bad blood down in my bones came a rushing.
Singing who's gonna love you when she's gone?

'Cause it took such a heavy light to find you in the first place.
Through all that rain and remaining fog.

But if you're thinking you might wanna stay with me.
I don't wanna go on my own.'


'I worry when I get old I'll be lonesome,
Chasing all the umbrellas in London,
Every footstep in Angel Station,
For even the scent of her perfume again.

Watching detectives chasing the one that got away.
The one that got away.'

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫,

Feb 2nd 2020 - 4:38 PM


thicker than blood,
A simple wave and the waiter approached, taking their order with an easy air. A hot chocolate with cane of peppermint for the blonde, and peppermint tea for the brunette. He disappeared with a turn of his heel, leaving the two alone to converse – if that was what one could call it. Charlotte knew Lucy was having a hard time adjusting to what she had done ( if she had done anything at all, the Ravenclaw still had no idea what to believe ) and how it had now affected her lifestyle. The mystery had only come to be but had yet to be solved; and try her hardest, Charlotte would do. Especially for Lucy’s sake. If the other thought there was something out there forcing her to commit acts unbecoming of her stature, then she would do her damnedest to make sense of it all.

Charlotte shifted in her seat if only to cross her legs beneath the table, napkin placed delicately upon her lap. She licked her lips and removed her gloves, one by one, to be set upon the table to her dominant right. From there, hands clasped together within her lap : a stature that showed she was more than ready to listen, that she was in constant and capable thought.

I understand your . . . terror when it comes to the circumstance,” she started, but if she did or did not, she gave no indication either way. To most that crossed her path, Charlotte was impassive : there was little room for emotion, which led to the ultimate irony that she felt nothing short of it all. There was always so much feeling built up within her, she just simply chose not to succumb to its desires and remained more so composed than anything else. Perhaps it was a blessing, though most called her a curse. She paused. “But you are safe here. Whether in my shop, or in this café. I’ve made assurances.

Her forefinger gently tapped against her knuckle of opposing hand, observing the other in her current state. She was tired, exhausted – worn to the bone; but there was a life there inside of her, flickering behind her gaze. Charlotte recognized it almost too easily : it was the desire to keep on living, to push through the circumstance and find peace on the other side. Stubbornness, one might call it. She gave a soft smile.

Let us start from the beginning, no?” she continued, sitting upright as their drinks came to be set upon the table. “No one can hear you, so speak freely. I’ve enchanted our table to make it seem as if we’re having conversation, but not a soul can hear what about. A glamour, if you will. Just another one of my tricks.
𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫,

Dec 16th 2019 - 10:24 PM


thicker than blood,
which is worse - to lie or be lied to?
She knew it was difficult for Lucy – not because she had been in the same situation, but because she understood the fear that followed suit. Fear of the unknown, fear of forgetting. The blonde had lost sight of what ailed her and that was a terror all on its own, one Charlotte could comprehend even if she hadn’t – yet – lived it herself. Still, the necessity to help in any capacity was all the raven-haired witch could offer, even if it wasn’t much. Perhaps it would aide her in knowing someone was close, someone she could trust, even if their tenure as ‘friends’ had lapsed over the years. Charlotte still provided her some sort of comfort or else Lucy would not have shown up the way she had, looking for help. . . or, perhaps, she knew of the woman Charlotte had become and that was precisely why she had.

Regardless, she couldn’t not help. She just hoped that she was doing so.

Thought was pushed free of her mind as she awaited Lucy to dress, humming softly to herself as she gathered her peacoat and gloves, sliding them on in lieu of a set of robes. Adaline was briefed as to how the day was to go in her absence, and off went the young witch to settle into the shop. Charlotte stood, turning to face her friend as she re-entered the room, dressed in new clothes and looking somewhat like herself. It pleased her and so she gave a gentle smile, nodding toward the door. 

It’s just across the street, not too far,” she explained, taking a breath as they exited the shop. The city was just coming to life, the hustle and bustle near deafening – scents and sounds overwhelming. Still, she led the way to the crosswalk and furthermore across the street to the café. A waiter recognized her immediately and led them to a table within, removed from the window and gifting them a luxury of privacy. Two menus were afforded as they took a seat. Charlotte glanced over at her companion, trying to maintain a light heart despite the situation. “Hot chocolate for you, perhaps? They make a delightful peppermint white hot chocolate, actually, if you prefer. . .
𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫,

Dec 15th 2019 - 6:28 PM


thicker than blood,
which is worse - to lie or be lied to?
It wasn’t easy, trying to stay calm when something so terrible had obviously transpired; but Charlotte had made her mark in the world doing just that for years now, taking items of macabre sensation and making them into living, breathing moments. She knew how to portray life as something other than what it may seem on the surface and with that, it made her all the better a storyteller. … but this wasn’t a story for her to tell. Rather, it was one for her to read through and make sense of; but she didn’t know how. How could she when company gave her little to go off of? How could she when the other was hiding things from her that could prove detrimental to the tale as a whole? 

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand Lucy’s hesitation – she did. It was that she couldn’t comprehend the fear and trepidation that fell short of the mark. Memory loss or not, selective memory too – there was so much to explore, so much to understand. A dream was only as good as it was based in reality. The imagination was a wicked little thing, but all of its twists and turns took root in what was real. If Lucy were imagining vivid crimes, then she was either recalling something tragic . . . or some sort of magic was afoot, drawing her into the framing of a murder. It was almost seamless, the latter – and rather special of a case. Charlotte understood the care they needed to take with it all.

She slept for an hour, perhaps two – her mind racing beyond all means. When first light broke, she went about getting ready for the day. She bathed, she dressed, she traveled down to the shop from the rickety staircase that separated home from heart. She saw Lucy in the corner, eyes boring away into a book she wasn’t reading. Her heart, though often told she had nothing of the sort, ached to see her friend in such a fashion. She was hurting and Charlotte was unaware of what she could do to help. It wasn’t often she didn’t have an answer for everything, but alas – this drew her into speechless territory.

She turned the opposite direction, unlocking the door for Adaline – her most loyal and trustworthy employee – to enter, carrying a package requested and the morning paper. She whispered a few fine words to the girl, who ignored the company of Lucy in the corner to go about setting up shop for the morning. Charlotte then picked up the newspaper and package, looking over the front page. She stopped when she noted a headline and swallowed hard. The paper was promptly thrown into the bin nearest, her feet carrying her to where Lucy sat. She gave a soft smile.

Come, love,” she said, nodding toward the stairs. “Ada’s brought you some clothes to change into and I’d like to take you to breakfast, if you’d be willing.
𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫,

Nov 12th 2019 - 6:29 PM


thicker than blood,
charlotte x lucy
She simply didn’t know what to do. Charlotte wasn’t the emotive type and Lucy, despite being similar, seemed to need more than what her friend could offer. It wasn’t the first time, but this. . . something about this seemed different, went deeper. There was more than Lucy was letting on, but Charlotte wasn’t going to pry. As much as she wanted to, as much as she desired to – there was a bond between the two that she had yet to desire breaking; and with it still fully intact, there was hesitation to press forward despite the notion. There was no denying that the raven-haired beauty cared for her blonde counterpart, that she would do what she could to calm her amongst the storm; but how much could she truly do this go around?

Sleep is necessary, my dear.

Charlotte nodded gently, slowly pushing herself to a stand. Warmth flooded her, a headrush taken. She had been sitting for too long and her body, once so youthful, had ceased to accommodate as easily as it had. A wave of her wand and the cup of hot chocolate provided for her friend refilled itself, settling nearby, steam gently rising in singular column. It would stay warm, the faint scent of peppermint lingering for an added kick of relaxation. 

I still have work to do for the evening, but you’re welcome to the bed or sofa – whichever you prefer, of course,” she spoke, soft Irish lilt given with a gentle smile. A tuck of dark hair behind her ear, she stepped away slowly to find bedding – a warm blanket, a plush pillow. “In the morning, we can revisit this. See where it takes us, no?” 
stag.

Nov 6th 2019 - 8:53 PM


'It would break your heart, if you knew me well.
See, I have run so far that I've lost myself.
And there are things I have seen that I never will tell.
They drove me out of my mind and inside of myself.'


'Oh, my my, it would break your heart,
If you knew how I loved you, if I showed you my scars,
If I played you my favorite song lying here, in the dark.
Oh my my, it would break your heart.'

'It would bring you to tears, if you knew what I know.
See, I spent all of my money on second hand love
But I trusted somebody way and back when.
And I loved her like fire until it drove me insane.'


'And you can lean on me until your heart don't beat,
I'll leave you lying there on the floor.
You can lean on me until your heart don't beat,
I'll leave you spinning there on the floor.'

[lucy x james - break  your heart.]
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