Chasing Shadows [Florence]

[Marisol Leandra Lobera Navarre]

25 October 2029

Sol was full of bad ideas. This was a scientific, verifiable fact that was supported by years of evidence. She’d really only managed to survive this long without trouble (well, without too much trouble) because of other people around her that could counterbalance the dangerous voice in the back of her head that told her to just do things and figure out the consequences later. But yeah, this idea was definitely a lot worse than her usual caliber. She wasn’t ignoring advice from her stern older half-brother, she wasn’t pocketing a handful of tea bags from the little kitchenette at work…no no. She was a werewolf wandering around a festival site just a couple days after the full moon. Oh yeah, the same festival that had apparently just been the site of a werewolf attack.

She was skeptical, having seen the grisly pictures of one of the victims all over the tabloids that weren’t restrained by whatever conscience kept the big papers from showing graphic photos (or at least blurring them out, like come on). They didn’t quite look like werewolf marks (and she considered herself kind of an expert), but it’d been pointed out that it could be. Because not every attack looked the same, right? But either way, she’d wanted to go to the festival and there was no reason for common sense or a basic survival instinct to get in the way of a plan she’d made in her head and that would’ve given her anxiety to deviate from this imaginary timetable.

So here she was! It was kinda amazing that they’d decided to continue at all, or that there were still some people who’d chosen to come. For her at least, it was perfect – she couldn’t stand crowds on a good day, and it being only a few days since the full moon still left her groggy and grumpy. Like she’d stayed awake the whole time and was trying to remember how human beings functioned. She dragged herself through the open area, rubbing at her eyes and trying to guess at what was still open. There was an empty table that must’ve been the plum cake eating contest (assuming the stains were from plums and not something else). There was a hut with a good-sized crowd around it listening to a musician singing and strumming his instrument. She made a wide berth around the other people and finally stopped at the scam artist’s booth.

Sorry, the divination booth. Her expression drifted somewhere between skeptical and cynical as she crossed her arms and considered her options. It was the only area that was practically empty of people. Sol drifted closer, just close enough that she could read the instructions on the different kinds of readings. Crystal ball, tarot cards, palms, smoke patterns. It was all mumbo-jumbo, but she should probably do something while she was here. Otherwise it would’ve just been better to stay at home, and Sol had already ruled out that option. The booth was empty, so Sol waited for the ‘Seer’ to come back. Her arms crossed, head still pounding from the aftermath of her transformation, Sol just stared at the crystal ball and wondered if she was really about to pay for this.

@open!

[florence violet fortescue]

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”An old love will return to your life in the near future…” It sounded like something that came out of a fortune cookie, which was a nice way to say that Flossie wasn’t convinced by what the woman in the divination tent had told her. There were really only two options available: her ex-husband, which while it was an amicable split, would never leave New York, and the other was her unrequited childhood crush, Rhys. Suffice to say, neither were happening now, and most likely never again, so she didn’t believe a word that the fortune teller had uttered to her.

The friend who had joined her had to leave and meet up with family, which meant Flossie had the rest of the afternoon to spend by herself. After the events of the creature attack a few days prior, the festival in Hogsmeade had been quiet. She had spent the majority of it working, as Honeyduke’s never slowed down regardless of what happened. Apparently, people really wanted candy after almost dying. It was an odd reaction, but who was she to say no to them? Luckily, having employees to run things while she was out made life so much easier. Not having to be there 24/7 anymore was amazing.

Wandering up and down High Street a few times, Flossie somehow found herself back in the direction of the fortune teller. It was finally empty, the host of the stand gone as well. Only one person stood in front of it, staring down at the sign that detailed the ‘services’ the ‘Seer’ offered. Normally, Flossie would ignore it and let people spend their money the way they wanted to, but after her poor reading earlier, she didn’t want anyone else wasting their money. ”I really wouldn’t, if I were you,” Flossie warned as she got closer. ”I’ve never met an actual Seer before…but I don’t think she’s one.”

Marisol Leandra Lobera Navarre ● 317

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Marisol Leandra Lobera Navarre]

To the casual bystander, it might look like Sol was deep in thought about the fortune teller and all the different ways they might be able to see her future. Actually, she’d read through the instructions twice already and only half-remembered what was written. Her head was sensitive, like it’d been stuffed full of cotton and she’d been taking the last two days to clean it out. Sol ran a hand through her hair, but really that was just to have a few moments to massage her temple and wonder if she was even capable of making good choices (because her record said otherwise). Her stubbornness definitely outweighed her common sense, though. It didn’t matter if this was a bad idea or if she’d have been better off getting over her transformation at home like a bad hangover, because she was here and pride wouldn’t let Sol leave without doing something.

So here she was. Deep in thought, gaze turned inwards instead of outwards while she tried to read all the warning signs her body was flashing at her. Sol jumped a little at a voice that came out of nowhere, a person suddenly standing next to her instead of empty space. She hadn’t even heard the woman approach. Her features looked quite a bit different from Sol’s darker looks (which all but screamed that she wasn’t British), but she had the same skeptical expression on her face that Sol did whenever someone raved about Divination or their Seer’s uncanny abilities. Her warning also sounded like it’d been pulled straight from Sol’s thoughts, warning her off from wasting her money at the booth. “That’s too bad,” Sol said dryly, crossing her arms and eyeing the crystal ball like it might grow legs and try to bite, “I’ve got quite a lot of questions.”

But that was the crux of the issue, ultimately. Sol had lots of questions about life and magic and destiny, but she knew better than to try and cut corners to get answers. The universe didn’t send messages through the smoke of a candle, right? You had to study hard, spend your whole life researching, and then maybe get out there and see what part of the academic literature holds up (if any of it does at all). She'd reached the conclusion a long time ago that nothing in life came easy or free, and Divination just seemed like a cheap attempt by wizards and witches to do things the pain-free way. A wise person knew there was no such thing. Sol sighed slightly and turned to get a proper look at the other skeptic. She definitely didn’t know her, nor could she relate to the instinct of willingly starting a conversation with a stranger just to give advice. “So what happened to you?”

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[florence violet fortescue]

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Flossie had never contemplated what difficulties a Seer may actually have in society. Was one expected to constantly conduct work, assuming the ability itself could be turned on and off at any given moment? Her own grades in Divination had been terrible, having opted for the more practical classes after third year (and Astronomy, because stargazing was relaxing and had other benefits at that point in time). But a Seer selling themselves like a run of the mill muggle carnie? That seemed incredibly inefficient and a bastardization of their magical prowess. Assuming, of course, that they had other options available to them outside of festivals like this. It couldn’t have been terribly difficult to fake it all either. Flossie, unfortunately, had developed a decent amount of cynicism during her time living in New York City. And while she wasn’t opposed to trying things like this out, she was quick to dismiss them immediately if there was even a hint of bullshit.

The young woman she had approached and warned didn’t seem too torn up about it though; despite saying she had questions to ask. Didn’t they all? She supposed having a glimmer of hope for the deeper burning questions of life with an easily accessible ‘Seer’ would drive quite a number of people to the stand. Flossie had done it out of pure interest. Now she regretted the sickle she had coughed up for it.

”She said that an ‘old love’ would return to me soon. You know, the usual nonsense you’d hear from someone making up things as they go,” Flossie explained. ”And for quite a number of reasons she would know if she was an actual Seer, it’s literally impossible that it could happen.” Except that it probably could, but the likelihood of it was so unbelievably slim that it didn’t warrant any further thought. Other than trying to dissuade others from spending their money on the woman. ”Normally I wouldn’t care, but having someone hack it as a Seer could ruin any chance of Hogsmeade holding festivals like this again. Especially after what happened the other day.” And less public events meant less sales for her. It did almost always come back around to her work.

Marisol Leandra Lobera Navarre ● 369

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Marisol Leandra Lobera Navarre]

Sol snorted at the cliché fortune, crossing her arms and smiling to herself. People weren’t nearly as organized or predictable as the museum’s archives (which were easily sorted into categories and didn’t talk back), but that’d never helped Sol guess at how or why they worked the way they did. She supposed most wannabe-Seers just didn’t have the skills to hack an honest living, so they preyed upon people’s fears and desires instead. “I guess everyone always wants the same thing. That’s why they hand out fortunes like that.” That was it, wasn’t it? Everyone wanted to be loved, everybody wanted to believe that past mistakes could be undone. ‘An old love will return’ answered both of those needs, and gave people the opportunity to believe that the past wasn’t written in stone. The woman’s cynical comment at the end was interesting, though. “Why?” Sol asked innocently. If the question might come off as rude, then the possibility hadn’t occurred to her. Academic curiosity drove her more than anything else. “Did he die or something?”

Not that she’d been particularly open in the first place, but Sol closed off again at the mention of the ‘werewolf’ attack that’d taken place earlier in the week at the festival. “Oh yeah,” she said doubtfully, still remembering the images that’d been published of the victims and the strong doubt that’d creeped into her head not long after. “It’s amazing how everybody suddenly becomes an expert after an attack like that. Publishing their opinions online or in the paper.” It was hard not to sound bitter about it. Sure, it affected Sol personally as a registered werewolf. But more than anything, she was offended as a researcher. It deeply frustrated her to see people talking like they had any idea of what they were saying, or the severe consequences it might have on others. She’d had to register on her job application that she was a werewolf. What if the Oraculum fired her, or sent her so deep into the stacks that she’d never see daylight again? All because some people had uninformed opinions about what had happened on a dark night.

She paused so she could breathe after releasing all of her frustrations in one breath, and Sol took an extra moment to retrace the conversation and understand how they’d started talking about Seers and ended here. Sol’s eyes stared straight ahead (which was preferable to trying to make eye contact with the other woman), but she wasn’t really seeing the Divination equipment in front of her. She’d been inwardly-focused earlier, trying to understand what her body had been telling her and comparing the symptoms to a hangover (although she didn’t even have the good memories of a night out to console her). But now she was remembering what she’d read and it made her wonder. She was so sure it wasn’t a werewolf attack. But people had gotten hurt, no one could dispute that. It was like she had these two puzzle pieces in her head, but couldn’t put them together to see what image they formed. It frustrated her, too, and she stared intently at the candlestick like it might tell her something.

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