» Out of the Blue, Open

[James Riley]

Open to: Miss Felicity Prewett, Ms Moira Prewett, shop employees, customers, or those hiding from the rain!

There were pros to this courting thing, James realized, and there were definitely cons.

On the one hand, it was nice to have an excuse to see Felicity on their days off. There was an interesting sense that he got as he stood outside her home waiting for the door to answer--a feeling that he belonged there, that he had every right to be there and that others would see and be jealous. He'd never had occasion to be proud of his relationships before; there was nothing particularly lovely about a never-ending betrothal and no one had envied him for it. This was different, though; he felt as though he had something that he didn't mind showing the rest of the world, which was exactly why courting was nice; it gave him an excuse to show off his admiration for Felicity in public, instead of just harboring these feelings during an otherwise bland work day and occasionally confessing them to Everett.

The flip side, however, was Moira Prewett. While James understood the practical need for young ladies to be chaperoned, it seemed in this case a little silly, given that they had private one-on-one time every day at the hospital, and if anything were going to have happened, it already would have--or already did, depending on what 'it' in this situation was. Also, while she wasn't necessarily unpleasant, she didn't seem to be adding much to their picnic. James had the sneaking feeling that she hated him, probably for being a half-blood, though he couldn't prove this, at least not conclusively, and he would certainly never say as much to Fee.

Still, Moira Prewett was a price he was willing to pay for Felicity's company, and it was nice to be able to do things with her besides just undoing jinxes and healing hexes away. Today he'd managed to prepare a picnic--with some help from Florence, which he had made her swear not to breath word of to Felicity--and had taken the Prewett ladies to the park to enjoy the lunch. Everything had been going rather well--he'd even had hopes that perhaps Moira was beginning to not hate him quite so much--when suddenly Mother Nature had turned on him, furrowing its brows angrily and darkening the sky with clouds. Before he could even comment on the sudden arrival of the ominous thunderclouds, a torrential downpour had been released on the entire company, and James had barely had time to grab up the picnic supplies as they had all run for cover--which unfortunately couldn't be found until they reached High Street, at which point James was thoroughly dampened and the food hastily thrown into a pile was probably inedible.

James spent the first minute or so after reaching the store alternating between frowning helplessly at the rain on the windows and trying to arrange the mess of picnic supplies in a more helpful fashion inside the little basket, before eventually realizing that the weather did not care for his consternation and the enitre picnic was unsalvagable despite his efforts, and turned with some exasperation to Felicity. "I'm sorry," he said, as if this were all his fault.

Glancing around, he took stock of the store--the Owl Emporium. He hadn't been here in quite a while, having had the same owl for some time and finding it altogether quite reliable, but there were certainly less interesting shops they could have stumbled into. "You don't happen to need a new owl, do you?" he said, with a little joking smile. "I doubt they sell anything to replace our lunch."

[Felicity Prewett]

Thus far their afternoon was not exactly going as planned.

Her morning had gone swimmingly, the blue sky dotted with only sparse clouds as she had walked with Frederick in Padmore Park. Felicity had expected the weather to be every bit the same for her lunch with James—but unfortunately, that had not been the case. It had seemed that no sooner had they (and her Aunt Moira, dutifully chaperoning the venture) sat down to lunch than the sky had darkened unleashing a relentless downpour upon the trio, not to mention the other park-goers. Fee had let out a rather undignified shriek of surprise as the water had begun pouring upon her before quickly following James to the Owl Emporium.

Had they been less surprised, no doubt at least one of their party might have thought to use magic to at least keep them reasonably dry until shelter could be found. Frowning at the feeling of being unbearably wet, the witch half-heartedly gathered a handful of her skirts and attempted to wring them out, to little avail. Still hopelessly damp, Felicity turned to James, who seemed to think the entire ordeal was of his own making. “Don’t be foolish,” the redhead chided almost habitually; James, in recent months, had had a habit of being so. “It was a lovely idea; you can hardly fault yourself for nature’s lack of cooperation.”

Still, she had to admit that he was plainly right—unwilling to venture back into the streets until the rain let up at least a little bit, there was little that could be done for food in the interim...unless roasted owl placed itself upon the menu, a prospect Fee both doubted and was not particularly enthused by. In the hopes that she might provide some comfort, the intern rested a hand lightly on James’ forearm. “Really, James,” she reassured softly, “it was quite a nice thought.” Though the pair had been courting scarcely longer than a moment, their shared work environment had already rendered the two comfortable in one another’s presence.

341 words • james, open • wait. They actually leave the hospital?

like a stone template by null moon

[Moira Prewett]

An increase in light gives an increase in darkness

Moira didn't really want to be there. She hadn't married, she hadn't had children and in some instances might claim she had avoided it on purpose, so why should she be running around after her nieces and nephews? She had her own business to attend to! That being said, she had loved her brother dearly and so she would put up with his children for his sake, though she personally thought none of them to take particularly after him. Even if they had, she wouldn't have believed them capable of living up to his memory.

So far she had remained silent, observing with a cold reluctance of sorts over the proceedings, making sure nothing untoward or improper was initiated. She would lurk to an extent - sit there between them begrudgingly making her presence known only through intense awkwardness and unease while all the while speaking not a word unless directly required to. Why couldn't Harriet watch over her daughter? Or hired help? Well, she knew why but still, the sentiment and reluctance remained all the same.

They were just settling down for lunch, when it seemed the heavens were in the mood to unleash a torrent of rain upon them. She needed no encouragement to follow the pair into the Owl Emporium to escape the unpleasant weather, though she was sort of pining for her lunch that was as of yet, pending consumption. The trek from picnic spot to the High Street had not been the most dignified, she conceded for who really wanted to be outside in such weather? It would make most people run for cover, though she liked to think she hadn't minded too much.

She stood soaked in the room with them, as of yet still stewing in silence and her own thoughts. She could feel water trickling down the back of her neck from a few tendrils of damps hair that had escaped the rest of her neatly pinned up hair and it made her shiver briefly. Catching sight of Felicity's hand upon James, she swiftly intervened and took Felicity's wrist in her hand and lifted it away from Mr. Riley's arm. Moira's arms fell to their former position and she said nothing on the matter as though she hadn't done a thing.

Tag: F & J Outfit: Here Words: 378
created by kay of caution and sds

[James Riley]

James continued to frown while Fee tried to comfort him, though of course she was being entirely logical. He really couldn't control the weather, not without some serious forethought and heavy spellwork that he was almost entirely sure he wasn't capable of, and aside from the minor detail of the torrential rain, the event had gone rather well--he'd remembered to bring everything and no one had had any qualms about anything until the rain started. Well, Ms. Prewett might have had some complaints, but she seemed to be generally unpleasant, so that wasn't much of James' fault.

A smile flickered across his face when Felicity touched his arm, then quickly vanished again when her chaperone dutifiully removed it. Had chaperones always been this much of a bore? To be fair, it had been quite some time since James had been in the presence of a single lady he'd actually had any desire to be around, and who felt the same around him. Maybe the dozens of girls his sister had tried to introduce him to would have been just as unreachable, had he ever tried. Still, something about the motion felt decidedly hostile. I wish I could make this woman like me, he thought to himself, but couldn't think of a way to do so.

He could have magically dried himself out a tiny bit, but it would have been rude to do so and leave Fee and Ms. Prewett wet, and he doubted that Ms. Prewett would approve of his casting heat spells on Fee, so he decided to just deal with the wet clothes. "Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out, in any case. When the rain stops maybe we can go down to one of the restaurants at the train station? Does that sound agreeable, Ms. Prewett?" Maybe if he tried to include her in the conversation, she would do more than just occasionally glower at him.

As a way of changing the topic a bit, James pointed over to a tan-and-white barn owl in a cage in the corner, showing the bird to Felicity. "My first owl was just like that--same size, same color, everything. His name was Scruff--terrible name, but I was eight, so you can't really blame me much."

[Felicity Prewett]

The redhead could not help but scowl childishly as her aunt intervened in their conversation. While Moira Prewett was infallible in her duties as a chaperone, a quality Fee had always admired when it came to minding her various sisters, that the woman behaved equally flawlessly with her did no less than grate on the intern. If only her aunt had the vaguest idea what the pair had gotten up too away from her influence—and before courting, no less!—all the hand-pulling in the world would not be enough to salvage her in this respect. A comforting hand was the least of the couple’s concerns; they had progressed beyond that with ease just by virtue of working with one another. Still, she did not verbally react to the action: her aunt’s move had served its purpose in reminding her to watch herself, and a snapping at her chaperone in public was hardly something that would have been considered appropriate.

“I cannot even recall my first owl,” Fee replied, pondering. No doubt it had belonged to one of the twins before it came into her possession, or perhaps one of the eldest girls—whatever its former mastery, the poor bird had tired and died not a year after entering the Hufflepuff’s possession, a fact entirely overlooked, given that its death coincided with the fifth anniversary of her father’s own.

229 words • james, moira, open • Aunt Moria? More like Aunt KILLJOY.

like a stone template by null moon

[Moira Prewett]

An increase in light gives an increase in darkness

Moira was not particularly eager to be thrown into conversation, she was perfectly content to lurk like an ever present shadow; following, observing and intervening when necessary. Not participating. As for drying them off, she thought him rather stupid for not having used his magical talents - if talents they could be called in his case, for she knew very little about him - to dry himself. Would she have disapproved of him using the same spell on her niece? Perhaps. Would she have disapproved of his only drying himself off? Yes. Was there really any way he could win? No, not really. In Moira's mind, the entire male species - save her dearly departed brother who simply could do no wrong in her eyes - were the same and not worth emotional investment. That wasn't to say she would object to marriage because she held objections to men, merely that she refused to love, respect or emotionally invest in them.

"Yes, yes. Very agreeable," she replied shortly, just within sounding outright rude. As if to prove some sort of point, she brandished her wand and lazily aimed her wand at her dress and hair in turn, drying herself effectively and without uttering a word. A few seconds after she finished drying herself, she put away her wand and stood up to full height, glanced between the two and then stated, "No point catching pneumonia or something worse." She had no fear of dying from such mundane diseases for she was quite sure she had the constitution of an ox. Yes, she had her moments where she would succumb to illness but she prided herself on not being such a woman who fell ill at the bat of an eyelash.

Tag: F & J Outfit: Here Words: 286
created by kay of caution and sds

[James Riley]

Well, James was absolutely convinced; Moira Prewett hated every fiber of his being, and would continue to do so no matter what happened for the rest of his courtship with Felicity, and probably indeed throughout the remainder of his acquaintance with Ms. Prewett, regardless of what happened with Fee. He had a sudden mental image of a beautiful, sunny summer wedding, with Felicity in a gorgeous white dress--and Moira scowling at him darkly from her side. Why Moira happened to be Felicity's maid of honor in his fantasy was anyone's guess, but from there the vision only continued to deteriorate; Everett on his side was holding a crying baby Ella, Anders in the pews seemed to be drunk and on the verge of falling on the floor, his brother and older sister laughed conspiratorially from the back row as if privy to some secret joke, his mother accidentally lit Felicity's dress on fire.

There was no possible way to win. James decided to focus on the moment at hand instead of the future. Moira had dried herself off, but Fee hadn't, at least not yet, and James was nervous to make a mistake in either direction, so for the moment he simply continued to drip. Maybe he would catch pneumonia, and die, and not have to worry about the potential disaster of a wedding.

That would never work; he worked in a hospital and too many of both his friends and Felicity's friends were healers. They wouldn't let him get out of things that easily.

James didn't think he ever wanted to get married.

"Sorry, did you say something?" he asked Fee, sure that he had spaced out for a moment and potentially missed whatever she had been trying to say. Which he was sure would be held against him by the ever-glaring chaperone.

[Felicity Prewett]

Blushing faintly—why had she not thought to do so sooner?—Felicity mimicked her aunt’s drying charm (verbally; though silent spellcasting was something she had a basic grasp upon, she was not nearly adept at it enough to risk it on her own person), made ever warmer by the quick disappearance of the dampness. She did wish her aunt would try to be at least a little more pleasant; while the redhead herself knew that this was simply the way Moira Prewett behaved, she worried that James might see it as rude—which, in turn, would reflect badly upon Fee herself.

It seemed, to her dismay, that that might already be happening—he had even begun to stop listening to her! “It was nothing of importance, Mr. Riley,” the witch said simply, wondering if her aunt would not take her tongue if she addressed him improperly as the woman had so abruptly clasped her arm. It seemed to Felicity that it was better to be safe than sorry under the circumstances; they could always be more informal at the Hospital—a strange notion, but the truth nonetheless. “Aunt Moira, if any of us were to fall ill, there would certainly be worse company to do so in,” Felicity offered, trying to lighten her aunt’s temper. True, they were spell damage healers, and Fee not even a full healer yet, but that much had to count for something where trivial muggle ailments like pneumonia were concerned.

245 words • James, Moira • Moira IS a killjoy.

like a stone template by null moon

[Moira Prewett]

An increase in light gives an increase in darkness

Moira was beginning to take a twisted sort of pleasure in her own displeasure. That was to say, she was not at all content playing chaperone for her niece but she was also starting to get a kind of amusement from the power it gave her. She could encourage impropriety if she so desired and she could end things completely. The power was all in her hands and that small fact made the trip worthwhile completely.

"That's if your Mr. Riley here is as good a Healer as he is on paper," she replied with little intention to amuse with her statement though nor did she mean any rudeness by it, at least, not intentionally. If that was how it was chosen to be construed then so be it, it wasn't her problem to deal with the sensitivities of the youthful, only to make sure they didn't violate social decency or whip up a scandal that would make life very tiresome until it blew over. She didn't even consider Felicity a Healer of any sorts; she liked to think it was a passing phase her severely misguided mother was doing nothing to squash. Healing? Why would anyone want to bother themselves with that? She wasn't about to get on her knees and empty the chamber pots of the infirm or pop engorged pustules or just generally put herself in the path of all sorts of diseases and unpleasantness. "Now are the pair of you going to stand here like two empty headed lemmings or are you going to do something with the time you have remaining? And you," she directed this to James in particular now, "I hope you're not intending on standing there like a wet blanket for much longer, it doesn't say much for your intelligence."

She knew she was being difficult and abrasive but she wasn't going to stand there for much longer saying nothing, she felt all too much like she was trying to camouflage with the wallpaper.

Tag: F & J Outfit: Here Words: 332
created by kay of caution and sds

[James Riley]

James was all on edge; Felicity seemed a bit put off by his momentary lapse, and it certainly hadn't given Miss Moira Prewett any more reason to enjoy his company. This event was just going more and more splendidly by the minute. Now the horrid chaperone was even going after his profession, which, at least, James generally didn't have to defend. His behavior in certain situations, yes. His drinking, on occasion. His romantic life, absolutely. But his skill as a healer? No one called that into question. It was one thing that was indisputable. But what could he do? Argue with her? Hardly. Correct her gently? As if it would have any affect.

Hanging his head like a scolded puppy, James cast the spell to dry himself off and wondered what he could possibly do to make the day any better. Nothing, he knew, could please Moira, so he should focus his attention instead on Felicity. It was unthinkable that these two women were actually related; Fee was the soul of kindness, while Moira seemed to enjoy bringing everyone else in the world to the same level of misery that she was currently enjoying.

I'll end up marrying her just to get rid of her chaperone, James thought a little bitterly. "I'm quite sorry to hear that you are unconvinced of my healing skill or my intelligence, Ms. Prewett. However, there is very little I can do at the present moment to prove myself, so for now I will ignore your criticism," he said somewhat bluntly. If he was going to give up on trying to get Moira Prewett to like him, he was really going to give up.

Turning to Fee, he gave her a hopeless little smile. "I'd buy you a present to make up for the rather awful beginning to our afternoon, but I haven't heard that you in need of a new owl, and anything else they sell here would be quite pointless. Perhaps if we brave the elements again, briefly, we can secure some chocolate from Honeyduke's?"

[Felicity Prewett]

Between James behaving largely uninterested in her and her aunt being generally horrid—had Moira always been such a nightmare as a chaperone? The redhead could recall her being almost pleasant, before men had come into the equation—Felicity’s afternoon was quickly falling from dream to nightmare. To think, she had been looking forward to this? The rain had dampened not only her person but her attitude, and it was all Fee could do to make it look like she was actually enjoying herself. For all that her presence at the hospital necessitated work it was certainly easier—and compared to today, more enjoyable—to act freely with James there.

“I don’t imagine a little bit of rain would hurt, Mr. Riley,” she replied with all the enthusiasm she could muster. “Though that is only if Aunt does not oppose; I would hate for her to, as she so nicely put it catch pneumonia or something worse.” Talking about Moira without speaking to her was not the most gracious thing the intern might have done, but it was the closest to revenge for being unpleasant that Felicity imagined she would get, under the circumstances.

194 words • James, Moira • Moira IS a killjoy.

like a stone template by null moon

[Moira Prewett]

An increase in light gives an increase in darkness

Moira gave James a rather harsh stare and Felicity would likely be on the end of a much louder scolding once her 'friend' had departed. It might not be Moira's duty to discipline her nieces and nephews but she wasn't about to put up with insubordination either and certainly not in public. If they were going to drag her to Honeyduke's too then there better be a shortage of little pre-Hogarts children or there would be trouble. Mainly for the little children but she wouldn't spare James and Felicity either.

"Make your minds up. Sweet shop or no sweet shop; I'm not getting any younger and the weather isn't waiting on you either." Moira busied herself with patting down the material of her dress somewhat to distract herself from the urge to simply walk out and apparate home. "Really, worrying about the rain as if it's about to melt your skin. Ridiculous. I trust the pair of you bathe so you may cease with your worrying and get on with it."

Tag: F & J Outfit: Here Words: 171
created by kay of caution and sds

[James Riley]

James could sense that Fee's voice didn't contain all of the enthusiasm it could have, and this was simply not turning out the way he had planned it at all. He needed a way to recover the day, else their courtship might come to a rather abrupt end, which was something he absolutely didn't want. It had been so long since James had been with someone who made him as genuinely happy as Fee generally did, and he wasn't about to lose her company because of one bad afternoon.

Of course, Moira wasn't helping matters at all. James made a mental note to try and arrange their next outing so that her company would not be necessary--how he would do that, he didn't know, but he was sure he could think of something. In the meantime, having the older woman quiet down for even a few minutes would have been merciful--and might have been the few minutes James would need in order to recover the mood.

Getting a devious thought, James walked to Fee's side, while smiling innocently at Moira. "Certainly not, Miss Prewett. Honeyduke's it is--we'll see you there."

And, before she could respond, he whispered to Felicity, "Hold on!" His fingers brushed against her hand, just enough to pull her along as he Apparated out of the Owl Emporium. Let Miss Moira make of that what she would.

[Felicity Prewett]

A yank, a pull, and Felicity was in the sweet shop before she was even certain what was happening.

And then she realized what had happen and began to breathe, quicker and quicker. She had apparated—no, he had, and pulled her along for the ride without even consulting her first. How could he do such a thing?! What if he had made a mistake, what if they had splinched?! Her arm—or worse—could be hovering about the Owl Emporium with Aunt Moira right now and it would have been all his fault; the agony, the terror, both would have been entirely James’ fault and what would he have done then?! She would have to go to the hospital, be treated by the one who had wounded her thus, and all the while screaming with the pain of it!

There was a reason that Felicity had never taken the apparition class when it had been offered to her.

Legs shaking, it was all the intern could do not to sink to the ground; though she did not wish to allow James any opportunity to put her through such an ordeal again, she hung tightly to his arm to keep herself upright as she closed her eyes, trying to soothe the panic that was welling up inside of her. “How could you do that to me?!” she demanded—angrily—voice no louder than a whisper.

235 words • James, Moira • bad move, james.

like a stone template by null moon

[James Riley]

James hadn't really thought much before he'd pulled that little stunt, but the little thought that he had put into it hadn't expected a reaction like this. "What's wrong?" he asked, noticing her tone and the way she was clinging to his arm, which wasn't particularly ladylike or particularly appropriate, and Fee was normally quite ladylike and appropriate. He honestly had no idea what had gotten her so shaken, unless--unless she didn't typically Apparate?

James had gotten his license without a second thought, and so it never occurred to him that anyone who had finished their schooling, or at least made it to their sixth year, might not Apparate. He was sure Fee did, but now that he was thinking back on it, he couldn't exactly remember any instances of her having Apparated anywhere--then again, however, he hadn't spent much time around her outside of work before now, aside from their internment together during the snow storm.

"Haven't you Apparated before?" he asked, honestly surprised. "It's alright--you're alright. You're not going anywhere, we're here," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and trying to sound comforting. It had never occurred to him that anyone would have this reaction to Apparating. It was jarring at first, sure, but the sensation now seemed quite as natural to him as the odd feeling one had to overcome in order to comfortably fly a broom. Besides, they'd Apparated hardly half a block--not exactly a dangerous distance, by any means, with or without a passenger.