#callistis

[claudiosnake333]

[epsiloncrucis-blog1]

countercurses ✩ croix&chariot

@callistis

Seeing her again is like opening old wounds. That’s the kind of masochist that Croix is, and it says a lot about her that she’s actively seeking Chariot out now. is it more about hurting Chariot, or herself? Right now, it isn’t clear who’s gonna walk out of this encounter worse for the wear. Either way, it’s going to be a lot of fun.

She wonders about the things Chariot says about her. Is she the “crazy ex who tried to kill me” or is there just radio silence, no mention of how she actually got that injury? She wonders if they’ll come to blows again.

There’s a perverse sense of satisfaction from that thought. Is that why she’s setting this up to provoke her? With a sweep of her arm, the objects on Chariot’s desk crash to the floor, a fluttering paper trail and a few smashed magical instruments. Nothing important, she’s sure.

Breaking into Chariot’s personal office was easier than she expected. She makes a mental note to remind Chariot to upgrade the warding spells on the door (an actual challenge would be fun next time), and hoists herself up onto a sitting position right in the middle of the desk.

Then, when she hears the doorknob rattle, she opens her legs, them wide, some sort of sick taunt or invitation. Croix leans back, cocks her head to the side.

“Always so considerate, Chariot, you never keep me waiting long. Or... is it Ursula, now?“ There’s something of a purr to the laughter that follows. She never used to talk like this. “If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t have recognized you.“ Chariot’s changed, but Croix has changed, too, and that’s why they’re having this conversation isn’t it?

“Stupid name. You’ll always be Chariot to me. And the Chariot I knew... well. Let’s only say I’m disappointed you haven’t come to see me yet. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

[outatimeturners-blog]

tea leaves ⏳ doc&chariot

@callistis

He doesn’t make a habit of socializing often (always too busy, always wrapped up in grading papers or the latest experimental potion), but Ursula is always a high contender when he does want a chat.

Doc likes her. He can’t quite put his finger on why, whether it’s the same thing that draws everyone else to the woman (and veelas are fascinating beings, but he’s never been quite as affected by their charms as other men). But he suspects it’s rather out of some strange feeling of kinship, an understanding between two people who don’t really know each other but don’t want anyone else to know each other, either. They’re both such private creatures, Doc secluding himself down in the dungeons and Ursula locking herself away in the Astronomy Tower.

This time, he thinks, inviting her down to his office for a cup of tea is more for her benefit than his. She’s been... odd, since returning to Hogwarts in late summer with the rest of the professors. To be fair, he has too, but it’s fairly obvious without Doc even saying anything that he’s been having troubles with the missus.

But as far as Doc knows (which, admittedly, is not that much), the only thing that’s changed lately in Ursula’s life is work-related, the addition of a few new professors for the term. They’re all still settling in, trying to be accommodating, but Ursula seems more perturbed than most.

He has a theory.

“I can’t help but notice you’ve been a little troubled lately.“ Tact has never been one of Doc’s strong points, but he knows well enough to make sure his tone is mild, rather than pointed or accusatory. He knows better than most how it feels to be on the receiving end of scrutiny.

Doc leans back in the armchair across from her, swishes the dregs of his tea around in the bottom of the porcelain cup. His brow is furrowed, but in concern.

“If it would help appease your mind, I could give you a quick reading from your tea leaves, when you’re finished. I’ve always found knowing a bit about one’s future a comfort. Rarely have I ever seen disastrous results, and I worked as a naming seer for quite a few years. There’s always at least a little bit of hope left in the dregs.”