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last online Mar 27, 2024 15:16:27 GMT -7
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Mar 24, 2020 18:16:36 GMT -7
Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Mar 24, 2020 18:16:36 GMT -7
HAG'S FEVER, OR WHATEVER IT WAS CALLED meant that few wizards or witches were buying wands these days. Which suited Frankie, as his contracted prison sentence sweeping floors and the damned day went far faster without magic. Ronnie was furious, of course. Frankie thought she might combust with pure indignation at the lack of shop goers, but people were afraid. Fear was something Frankie knew all too well.
He swept the floors with almost too much cheer, having agreed to close as Ronnie was overseeing a delivery and they were expecting no more appointments this close to shutting. The wand boxes were stacked much neater than they had been when he was younger. There used to be a teetering jolliness to it, but under Ronnie's militant rule, everything was in its place and had its place. He thought it looked so rigid, no wonder nobody wanted to buy anything. He was going to Harper's later, he hadn't told her so, but he'd made an awful habit of just turning up with a bottle of booze from Indigo and she'd yet to turn him away.
Overhead, a tinkling of the door's bell went and Frankie sighed. "We're closed, mate!" He yelled, not even stopping the methodical sweep of his broom or lifting his head. "Can't you read?" He said when the breeze did not cease and the door did not close. "I said..." He stopped sweeping and lifted his head. "We're- Nellie?" Brows scrunched and Frankie blinked, as if he half expected his sister to dissolve like an apparition. Nellie did not just turn up to Ollivander's anymore, she acted as if the place were cursed. "What are you doing here?" He asked, dumbfounded as he dropped the broom and stepped around the counter to greet her.
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last online Mar 26, 2024 6:47:11 GMT -7
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Apr 11, 2020 8:37:19 GMT -7
Post by eleanor gwendolen ollivander on Apr 11, 2020 8:37:19 GMT -7
▲ Nell had assumed there would be a mix up in delivery orders at some point, when it came to her shop and her family’s. She didn’t anticipate it to be within a few months of opening though. That surely hadn’t been enough time for the average Joe to remember she was an Ollivander and to get her mixed up with her older sister. If anything, her orders should have been arriving on the front stoop of Ollivander’s and not the other way around. Either way, Nell had received a shipment of unicorn hair and knew she had to do her due diligence and bring it over to her sister. There would probably still be baseless accusations thrown her way, but the address on the postage would show that seller had gotten it all wrong. Nell didn’t even like using unicorn hair anyways, despite her own wand sporting it. Box tucked gently under her arm, she approached the front door of Ollivander’s. The closed sign was flipped to face outward, but that didn’t matter because she still had a key to the front door. Veronica could stall her training and accomplishments as much as she wanted, but she couldn’t take the key away from her. The shop was still her birthright if her sister kicked the bucket tomorrow. Gabriel wasn’t in the business, Frankie couldn’t be, and Gideon was too young and untrained. Nell would probably pass the reigns back over to their father because she was comfortable in her own establishment, but she was still technically next in line before Gideon was ready to take over. As she stepped through the door, the familiar twinkle of the bell above her signaling she had entered, a bark from Frankie came at her. This was definitely a surprise in how she imagined the exchange would go. “Postman sent cores to the wrong Ollivander,” she said, giving her brother a quick hug. “She isn’t here is she?” Veronica couldn’t have been. She never would have let Frankie run the business if she was. That was all a part of her control thing. MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
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last online Mar 27, 2024 15:16:27 GMT -7
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Jun 5, 2020 7:25:37 GMT -7
Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Jun 5, 2020 7:25:37 GMT -7
GROUSING AT THE PROSPECT OF DEALING WITH a fussy witch or wizard customer, Frankie had not prepared his expression for Nell. It was sour, scrunched and sober as she had rarely seen it. But, when he did spot her. Tall and black lit orange by the archaic, fire burning lanterns. Anything to preserve the sanctity of the past. It made Frankie laugh, but seeing Nell did not. He hadn't been avoiding her, per say. But, his need to kip on her couch until he sobered up had diminished. He got sober elsewhere now.
"Oh-" He laughed roughly, palming the hot flush at the back of his neck. "I think they just assume it's for here now." He'd accepted that delivery, but he hadn't noticed the incorrect 'Miss', instead of Ms. He hadn't been interested enough to. "Yeah, no-" Frankie scoffed, too at ease for Ronnie to be in the vicinity. He crossed his arms. "She wouldn't let me front face if she were here." He said like it was obvious, knowing that Nell already knew that. "And I wouldn't be caught with a broom in my hand." He flashed a quick grin at her.
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last online Mar 26, 2024 6:47:11 GMT -7
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Jun 30, 2020 19:38:58 GMT -7
Post by eleanor gwendolen ollivander on Jun 30, 2020 19:38:58 GMT -7
▲ Even though she already knew Veronica wasn’t around, a wave of relief still came over her when Frankie confirmed it. Having to shake that kind of stress off at the end of the day was like trying to cut through a ball of rubber-bands with scissors. Impossible. As she had gotten older and spent more time locked under her sister’s scrutinizing glare, she understood why Frankie drank as much as he did. She caught herself doing the exact same thing on more than one occasion. Veronica had a way of driving people into the corner of insanity and making them think it was all their fault. Somehow Frankie was still stuck there. At least he seemed to be sober right now. That was an improvement. “You’re a ‘tarnish on the family name’, or whatever it is that she’s always saying,” Nell rolled her eyes. She had heard that at least once a week during her seven years as an apprentice. It usually got worse as the holidays rolled around or if Frankie had made an appearance within the last month. It wasn’t like he could control whether or not he had magic. Sometimes it just happened. And his status as a squib literally didn’t affect her business at all. People went to Ollivander’s because it was consistent quality and there was little competition in England. Obviously she was going to make sure that changed in the years to come. “Imagine having a wand shoved so far up your backside that you feel threatened by a non-magical sibling…”Nell continued to shake her head in disappointment at their sister’s narcissism as she placed the box of unicorn hair cores behind the counter. She’d probably have Frankie tell her that it was a late evening delivery or something. That would remove her from any culpability of snatching a supply of high quality hair in the name of competition. “I haven’t seen you around lately. And I know you aren’t working here full time, so where are you at now?” If she had the business and budget to employ him even part-time, she would have done so already. That was unfortunately years down the road though. MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
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last online Mar 27, 2024 15:16:27 GMT -7
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Jul 18, 2020 6:42:03 GMT -7
Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Jul 18, 2020 6:42:03 GMT -7
'TARNISH' WAS A NICE WAY TO SAY IT, FRANKIE thought. Snickering under his breath as he heard it from Nell's mouth. Didn't sound right, coming from the only sister who gave him the time of day. He hadn't seen her in the while, but it was easy to fall in to old habits. He leaned the broom against the wall and dusted off his hands.
"That's me." He declared, grinning while tonguing his cheek. At least with Nell they had that in common, if nothing else. Their shared dislike for family tradition and Ronnie's pissing sour face. "That's how she walks so straight." Frankie mused, hefting himself up on the flat wooden register. Bracketed on both sides with large glass display cases. Showcasing cores and woods like it was an antique shoppe. She'd hate to find him there, that's why he did it, legs swinging and rattling against the wooden front.
"I switch between here and Club Indigo." Frankie said evasively, biting a loose piece of skin from his bottom lip. He knew she met 'where are you sleeping off your hangovers' but Frankie was reluctant to tell her. Picking a piece of paint from his knuckles instead. "I'm doin' okay, though." He promised her with a nod. "Another couple of months and I can probably afford my own place." He'd been squirrelling away every last morsel of pay to sort himself out, but it wasn't easy. Especially when a person liked to drink the way that Frankie did.
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last online Mar 26, 2024 6:47:11 GMT -7
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Jul 19, 2020 20:46:58 GMT -7
Post by eleanor gwendolen ollivander on Jul 19, 2020 20:46:58 GMT -7
▲ She hated the way that they were all always talking behind each other’s backs, but what could they do about it? Each of her siblings, and her nephew included, learned it from the best: Veronica. They had to fend for themselves against her, and their parents had never once stepped in to stop it. Except for keeping her and Frankie from truly going at each other’s throats, but Nell had been left to her own devices and had to defend herself. Their dad never once told Veronica that she needed to promote the younger Ollivander to a full-fledged wandmaker, despite overseeing both of their training for all those years. That left Nell to be thankful for two things: that she was only ever truly at odds with her sister, and that she hadn’t been subjected to Veronica whilst at Hogwarts. She knew for a fact that it would have been a living hell, because being taught by her had been horrid enough. Nell grimaced because she knew he was right about the wand thing. It had always been like that too. Her poisonous personality had no limits. Unfortunately she was an astounding wandmaker and even better salesperson. She sometimes hated her sister for that even more than being a horrible person. Having to live up to that on top of the Ollivander name only gave Nell unrealistic goals and standards to uphold. “Club Indigo?” Nell repeated, hoping she hadn’t heard him correctly. “I haven’t been there in…years…” And she assumed if Frankie got a job there, it was definitely just as seedy and uncouth as she remembered it. She hoped he didn’t notice the concern in her voice, but figured he was pretty good at reading that by now. Everyone always seemed to be disappointed at him for one reason and another, and she didn’t want to be like them. “But a job is a job.” She tried to sound more positive about it than she actually was. More surprisingly, maybe, was the fact that he apparently had enough saved away for his own place. “Hey, that’ll be good for you. You’ll need furniture, right?” MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
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last online Mar 27, 2024 15:16:27 GMT -7
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Aug 30, 2020 17:17:40 GMT -7
Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Aug 30, 2020 17:17:40 GMT -7
IT DIDN'T SURPRISE FRANKIE THAT NELL WAS too good for Club Indigo. In fact, he felt unbelievably relieved. Snorting from his place on top of the register. "Good." He remarked, crossing his arms between his legs. Fingers circling his wrist and digging in to the skin there, as if to anchor himself in place. "It's a shitehole."
In actuality, Frankie had worked in far worse places, for far less pay. But, the fact that it accepted both magical and non magical customers. That he had to pretend like he didn't notice. Frankie pretended not to flinch at Nell's careful reply, as if she were schooling her thoughts. So careful, so unlike their old dynamic. Before Frankie left, before he was forced to come back. "Yep," He replied shortly, biting down on his bottom lip until it bled.
"How's the shop?" He asked her in return, something he was genuinely proud of her for. It's all he'd ever wanted for himself at one point. To be a talented wandmaker of his own. Nell had exceeded expectations. Contrary to popular belief, Frankie hadn't wanted to be Ronnie when he was younger. Before Ronnie was Ronnie. He'd wanted to be Nell. Before he'd been dubbed a squib, before he'd disappointed every single person he'd ever encountered before that moment. He didn't think Nell had realised that yet, but he wasn't going to tell her. It was too sappy for the Ollivander shop.
"I don't need furniture yet, you can chill out." He waved her off, laughing gruffly, sure that the prospect of his own living space would take far longer than Nell thought. She was always doing that, thinking of the best case scenario, Sometimes it pissed him off. "I just need a place first." He laughed, palming his scruffy face. "I'd sleep on the fucking floor and it'd still be an improvement."
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last online Mar 26, 2024 6:47:11 GMT -7
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Sept 16, 2020 9:45:16 GMT -7
Post by eleanor gwendolen ollivander on Sept 16, 2020 9:45:16 GMT -7
▲ Nell nodded her head in agreement when her brother stated Club Indigo’s condition. That was putting it mildly, and they both knew it. At the same time, what good club wasn’t sort of shitty also? She had her own limits, like quality of music and the normal clientele, which Club Indigo failed to check off boxes on for her. And she had a business to run now too. The last few years she spent all her free time making wand inventory and finding sources and business partners to buy wood and cores from. None of her friends from school were really in that scene either (and never were to begin with), and these days were just as busy as she was, if not more. It had been months since she had actually had any time off that didn’t end up directly translating to some sort of work for the shop. But this was the life she had chosen, and complaining about it after putting so much time and money into it wasn’t worth it. “Busy. I thought I’d sell more wands than I actually am, but that’s what happens when people want charmed tables and chairs,” Nell shrugged, crossing the store and taking a seat in Veronica’s favorite chair. She had never been allowed in it when she was an apprentice, but their older sister was nowhere to be seen so she couldn’t really complain now. “Horizon draws some odd birds though. A lot of customers looking for rare wands or trying to pawn them off on me. I’d love to buy everything I can get, but some of those prices…” she shook her head in disbelief at what had been posed for quite a few different wands over the last few months. While a collector and purveyor of quality wands, she still needed to make a profit at the end of the day. She could not resell those sorts of wands to the average customer, as much as some of these strange characters seemed to think she could. She frowned as Frankie tried to blow off the furniture question. Everyone needed furniture. How the hell was he supposed to call it his own place if he was just sleeping on the floor? “While that’s worked for you in the past, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor in your own flat. You’re done doing that.” Whipping up a bed frame and other pieces of furniture wouldn’t be difficult for her at all. “If it makes you feel better, I can’t make couches, so you can pull whatever shabby looking thing you want off the street to make yourself feel more at home. But I’ll build you everything else. You deserve it.”MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
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last online Mar 27, 2024 15:16:27 GMT -7
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Nov 21, 2020 8:29:11 GMT -7
Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Nov 21, 2020 8:29:11 GMT -7
IN TRUTH, FRANKIE DID NOT WANT TO TALK about wands. It opened a pit in his gut, like he'd eaten something a little ripe and it was clawing it's way around inside of him. He knew what it was, of course. Envy had a way of festering inside of Frankie. But for Nell he persevered. Chewing on the inside of his cheek as he nodded stiffly. It was embarrassing for Frankie, when he realised just how much detail he'd remembered of wand-making. He'd always pretended not to care after he'd been dubbed a useless squib.
"Good for business," He joked, lifting his brows as he smiled sheepishly. Frankie tried not to make that sad fact improve his dwindling mood. That her failure would somehow be his success, that wasn't how he wanted to view it. He wanted to stay proud. "Carpenters are dying out in Muggle markets." Frankie said conversationally, reaching up to scratch at the bridge of his nose. "You're practically an antique."
Horizon was a different story, so steeped in magic that Frankie felt like he could smell it in the air. Like to stench of soot and smoke, it clung metallic inside his nostrils. "Are they... charging up?" Frankie snickered, leaning back on his perch with a rocking humour, his crooked eyeteeth catching on his chapped bottom lip. "Please tell me someone's tried to sell you an Ollivander!" He exclaimed, practically glowing with delight as his legs swung freely, knocking against the display under his feet.
"I won't sleep on the floor, relax!" Frankie hushed her, huffing out a breath as he waved his hand at her. She was mothering him. No matter how much he told her not to, she simply couldn't help herself. Unfortunately, it also meant that she knew Frankie very well. She knew he might say he wouldn't, but he definitely would. Frankie wasn't very fussy where he slept these days. As long as it wasn't home. Shaking his head, Frankie leaned back on his hands and smiled at his sister. She looked at home in Ronnie's handcrafted chair. The kind with the straight back and a leather cushion polished to a gleam.
"No I don't, Nellie." Still grinning like he wasn't the most pathetic man in the room. And to stop her from going on to discuss his non-existent self worth, Frankie looked at his side and pulled an empty wand box, tossing it at her head casually. "Why didn't you have a party to open your shop?" He asked, scandalised. Grabbing another box, he tossed that one as well. "I could have tended bar." A third flew across the room. "Could have drank the bar..." He stopped after three, eyeing the doorway as if daring Ronnie to waltz through and find him sullying her precious, prized shop. "You're a fuckin' square, Nellie, anyone ever told you that?"
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last online Mar 26, 2024 6:47:11 GMT -7
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Dec 5, 2020 21:11:05 GMT -7
Post by eleanor gwendolen ollivander on Dec 5, 2020 21:11:05 GMT -7
▲ An antique? That was definitely one way to look at her chosen career. While her brother was right, in the muggle sense, he seemingly forgot that magical folks were a couple decades behind on everything. The fact that they were only just now starting to look at incorporating magic with technology, said a lot. It had nothing to do with the Minister though – all of the ones over the last few years had been seemingly progressive in their thinking. It came down to a lot more than that, like how she still wasn’t allowed to utilize certain wand core materials and had to jump through a ton of legal tape just to import wood. There was a reason people did black market deals and bought things on the down low. As far as the Ministry was concerned, she didn’t have any wands made from werewolf whiskers or rougarou hair. Technically she wasn’t the one that had illegally brought them into the country, and there weren’t many laws on how she could use them once they were here. Suffice to say, her furniture building business was the highlight of her shop and most purveyors probably wouldn’t look past that. If there was a problem, those wands simply belonged to her, and she liked to keep them on display. “If I decide to sell to muggles, I’ll just open an IKEA. They eat that particle board furniture up.” And it only ever lasted two or three years. She had seen plenty of it left out on the streets, sometimes piquing her interest just enough until the realization that it was garbage hit her. Everything there was so muted and dull too, with very little variety. Unless you liked your flat looking like a muggle university student lived there. Maybe in the end that would be better for Frankie’s style of living… She shook her head side to side as he asked her if anyone had come in with one of her sister’s wands yet. “I expect to see an influx of repairs for first-years by the second week of September. It’s not like Veronica has ever made her wands strong.” They were typically bendy things, in comparison to Nell’s more rigid wands, which tended to be heartier and packed more of a punch depending on what they specialized in. But that right there was the difference between a starter wand and a regular one. Nell wasn’t particularly convinced by Frankie’s determination to argue about his non-existent furniture, because she was going to make it whether he accepted or not. With the rate she was moving these days, she could whip up a kitchen table and chairs in a matter of hours, and other odds and ends even faster than that. The second he had a flat of his own and she could manage to find her way inside, she was taking measurements and setting about on her work. She left it at that though, knowing that he was going to continue to refuse her help the more she pushed it. That was just how he was, unfortunately. Nell didn’t consider it a hand out in the slightest, and viewed it more as a house-warming gift. It was the only thing she was good at, and Frankie needed furniture anyways. He couldn’t really take whatever he had at their parents’ home. “You would have drank the bar, because it would have only been the two of us.” And probably some poor, unsuspecting shopper looking for a new wand or chair. All of her friends were busy with work, just as she was, and she didn’t want to bother them with something as trivial as opening her own store. They could visit on their own time if they wanted, since it would suite her just as well. “Ok, and?” she shot back at Frankie as wand boxes started heading in her direction. “I finally got what I’ve always wanted. I couldn’t have done that without letting a few things go and doubling down on my work.” He probably didn’t know about the side gig she was running out of her apartment with wands, adding to her Gringotts vault and getting her closer and closer to opening the store. She had spent years putting wands together with her own expenses and scrapped pieces that were perceived failures by Veronica. If that meant she had to be a bit of a square at times, then she was fine with that. MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
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last online Mar 27, 2024 15:16:27 GMT -7
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Jan 31, 2021 16:06:22 GMT -7
Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Jan 31, 2021 16:06:22 GMT -7
WITH A SNICKER, FRANKIE CONCEDED WITH A nod. His head bobbing as he dipped his chin. Nellie knew more about 'muggles' than he expected. Frankie wondered if she'd made that kind of effort for him, vaguely. If her knowledge of 'ikea' and the wonders of flat-packed furniture stemmed from an interest in the world more suited to her brother. He didn't dwell on it, the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. He didn't like the thought of her doing that, especially not for him. Like it was embarrassing.
"We like to feel useful." He commented, lifting his brows at her, a small smirk still painfully placed on his tired face. "Like we're a little bit capable." He pinched his thumb and forefinger together, the space between them miniscule. Throwing his head back, Frankie barked a large, unfiltered laugh. Nellie's brutal honesty shocking him momentarily. "Wait until I tell her..." He teased, shaking his shaggy head in delight. He'd forgotten about how sharp Nellie could. Realising, quite late, that it had translated over to their wand-making careers quite efficiently. He'd always liked that about her.
"Why?" He asked with a snort, lifting his legs up to cross them on the top, the wood creaking under the weight of him. "Don't you have any friends?" He teased her, wrinkling his nose at her in bad, childish humour. "I'm sure they'd have come for a free bar." Or, maybe that was just Frankie. As magic sizzled in the air, Frankie looked on in disdain. His hands held up in surrender at Nellie's harsh tone. "I'm not pickin' on you, Nel." He defended himself. "'M proud of you." He mumbled, quite reluctantly. Realising that such a thing probably wasn't worth much, coming from him. "You hiring?" He added jokingly, batting a wand box from the air above his head, like it was an annoying pest.
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last online Mar 26, 2024 6:47:11 GMT -7
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Feb 28, 2021 19:07:02 GMT -7
Post by eleanor gwendolen ollivander on Feb 28, 2021 19:07:02 GMT -7
▲ Merlin, she couldn’t imagine the temper-tantrum that Veronica would throw if she had heard the words that just came out of her younger sister’s mouth. If there was a physical embodiment of actual Hell, it would be in the form of Veronica on a tirade over someone criticizing her work. Nell had seen it once, when a wizard came in to complain about how his wand had snapped after only a few casts, and wanted to complain both to their father (who hadn’t worked in the shop for at least half a decade by that point), and was requesting a full refund so he could take his business elsewhere. Now, Veronica being who she was, immediately laid into the man, especially when it came to the accusations of the durability of her wands. She did make her wands rather stiff, which made them easier to snap under the right circumstances. But this man had managed to break it cleanly in three different spots, the discerning eye of the Ollivanders concluding that he had taken a hand-saw to the poor wand in order to make his claim. Veronica almost killed the man, and if she hadn’t succeeded, Nell felt like she definitely would have. “I know you’re joking, but please don’t,” she asked her brother. Nell feared what would happen if their older sister remembered that instance and decided to take her comment out of context. Certainly ugly, whatever would happen. When it came to throwing a party for her store though, Nell shrugged. “You mean all my friends that are Cursebreakers and are only in London to drop off pieces of gold before running off again?” she didn’t mean to come across as disgruntled as she was, but with the amount of work she had been doing lately, that meant for very few breaks outside of eating and sleeping. The grind wasn’t something new to her, and yet she could definitely feel it starting to weigh her down this time more than any previous periods of overworking. “I know you are…and I wish I could hire you, but I’m still not off my feet yet. Some of the customers look at me like I’m crazy when I meet them at the counter with wood shavings in my hair still.” It would have been nice to have a designated floor person, even though the shop wasn’t big enough to actually have a show area. Someday though, and she would give anything to bring Frankie on. “I bet the cat café down the street from me is looking to hire though. Cats don’t yell back like Veronica does.”MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
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last online Mar 27, 2024 15:16:27 GMT -7
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Jun 23, 2021 8:08:56 GMT -7
Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Jun 23, 2021 8:08:56 GMT -7
THE PANIC WAS PLAIN AND HONEST ON NELL'S drawn face. Blood draining at the mere thread of word getting back to Ronnie. Frankie laughed good and hard, the kind that rattled in his empty stomach as he rocked backwards and hummed his lackadaisical humour. "Could you imagine." He crowed, shaking his head. If it had been years prior, back when nothing mattered but adult approval, Frankie might have actually stirred the pot. He'd been ever so good at it. But, in their adulthood they had lost their simpering ways and gained a helluva lot of pride in its place.
"Relax..." Frankie drawled, rolling his eyes at Nell's stern pleading. "As if we share more than five words in that place." It was more that Ronnie barked orders, Frankie barked rebuttals and the jobs were ultimately done. He sobered up at Nell's resentful admittance of her loneliness. Though she didn't outright say it, Frankie knew the feeling all too well. "That's the big bank job, right?" Frankie asked, half interested and half resentful. "Must be nice..." He tittered, eyes already casting around the room in disinterest.
Hopping up from the table, Frankie strolled back towards where Nell stood. Smiling softly, placating her in some ways. "Don't worry about..." He told her, looping a big arm around her shoulders and giving her a hard shake. "I don't want your dirty money." And as she gave him a watered down alternative, he laughed. "And you home smelling like cat piss?" He snorted. "As if Ronnie doesn't hate me enough." He steered them towards back of the shoppe. "C'mon then, show me where you keep the good stuff."
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last online Mar 26, 2024 6:47:11 GMT -7
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Jun 27, 2021 19:33:31 GMT -7
Post by eleanor gwendolen ollivander on Jun 27, 2021 19:33:31 GMT -7
▲ Getting worked up like that wasn’t necessary at all, but the fact remained that her sister’s ire scared her more than anything. Years of working under her iron-clad fist and piercing, judging watch had struck fear in her now that she had escaped her apprenticeship. Being related to her was hard enough as it was, and working for her without an end in sight had been even worse. Veronica never would have gotten along with her regardless of age or upbringing, simply because Nell posed the most risk in being the one to usurp her life as the owner of Ollivanders. Even now. It was preposterous but that was also how her sister operated. Pissing her off would likely somehow have her convincing their parents to cut her out of any inheritance and a lifetime away from the rest of the family. Nell liked the rest of them. Veronica was the only stain on the family name, in her opinion. She was sure the feeling was mutual by now, even though she seemed to dislike Frankie just as much. “Yeah, they all work for the bank,” Nell confirmed. Though some were retired from that and picking new jobs now. Their bodies saw a lot of use and abuse, and cursebreaking was probably the most dangerous job one could have before dragons came into the picture. “They’re basically like that guy from the muggle movies, but yeah…” She couldn’t remember what they were called off the top of her head, but there had been one a few years prior that she’d seen in theaters. At the time, it was a nice break from the torment of their sister. Trying to imagine Frankie as a magical furniture salesman was actually kind of funny, especially considering the way he immediately threw his arm around her shoulders as she made her excuse about not being able to hire him. The odd jobs that he did barely compared to the potential he had, but clearly she was the only one that saw that in him. She also didn’t think he wanted to hear that coming from her, at least not right now. “That might get her to pay you more so you could move out again,” Nell offered, though she wasn’t sure that was what he really wanted either. “If you haven’t found it yet while cleaning, that means Veronica did and tossed it,” she laughed as Frankie started towards the back of Ollivanders. MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
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last online Mar 27, 2024 15:16:27 GMT -7
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Aug 1, 2021 17:37:51 GMT -7
Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Aug 1, 2021 17:37:51 GMT -7
SOMETIMES IT WAS EASY TO FORGET HE WAS different from his siblings. And then there were other times, the occasions when Frankie felt so far removed from the wizarding world that it was bone-crushingly lonely. He smiled slightly at her succinct explanation, agreeing with him only to speak about the inspired muggle movie with a detached similarity. As if he'd make the connection immediately - he didn't. "There are a lot of muggle movies," Frankie said a little shortly, a half laugh cracking his smoke addled lungs. "It's kind of their gag."
Looking down at his feet, Frankie sniffed and chewed on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. It was a nervous habit, something he reverted to from childhood when he felt out of place or uncomfortable. It only lasted a moment. Frankie recovered quickly, lifting his head again and grinning through a weeks worth of scruff. "I think she'd rather put a hit on me." He said, lifting his brows as if he was making a joke. Truth was, Nell was likely more correct than either of them were willing to admit. There seemed to be very little Ronnie wouldn't do to get rid of her disappointing little brother.
"Toss-?!" Frankie exclaimed, giving Nell a look of complete mortified surprise. He was joking, but the thought actually rankled him a little. "As if grandad didn't keep the best stuff back here." Frankie scoffed, unlooping his arm to start tossing boxes and flyaway papers about the room as he searched cupboards. "Also," He added absently, crouched down low as he reached deep in to the crevice of a small cabinet filled with jars and phials of all kinds - glowing faintly in the darkened room. "As if I'm actually cleaning this place properly." Frankie snorted, just as his hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle and he pulled something free. "Bingo!" He cheered, turning the dark blue glass until he saw the dusty label. "Oh... it's a bottle of bloody port." Frankie said disappointedly.
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