Post by ASTRID ALVA ABRAHAMSSON on Sept 2, 2021 6:15:12 GMT -7
Wands were meant to be tough and to last through anything. Or so, Astrid had thought. When she'd heard the snap yesterday evening in a tussle with a particularly stubborn erumpet, she'd thought it was simply a twig that the beast had crushed. Not her own precious wand. She'd managed to subdue the creature, but the damage was done. She would tell anyone who enquired that of course, she hadn't shed a tear. But the truth was she'd been devastated. Her bond to the magical world felt frayed, as if the past fifteen years hadn't actually existed. Her wand had been her acceptance. And now, it was snapped in two.
Unable to sleep, Astrid had researched various different wandmakers. She didn't want another from the same manufacturer, especially if it was so fragile. She came across one woman led wandmaking company, called the Queen's Wands and Woodworks. Astrid was inspired by her work, especially given that she was an Ollivander. She forced herself into her bed, tucking herself into Kal's side as she did so and slept fitfully, waking numerous times to see if it was time to leave and procure a new wand.
Though devastated by the loss of her wand, Astrid couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of procuring a new wand, especially one crafted by a woman. Gone were the times when only men could be trusted to approach the wand trees, the delicate art of pleasing the bowtruckles and taming the beasts who would soon become wand cores. As morning broke across the bedroom, Astrid was puttering about the house, fixing tea and dressing before dropping a kiss on Kal's cheek and disapparating to Horizont Alley. She approached the store front and saw that it was empty - it had only just opened. The bell above the door tinkled as she pushed it open, her blue eyes peering around to find the wandmaker.
eleanor gwendolen ollivander