corvusalas

[corvusalas]

How many times in the past had she run into a situation like this? Just another person who thought themselves superior because of her choice. Selma had long learned to live with the reaction of others; their judgement be it silent or openly voiced hardly something cared for. No matter how many times she encountered such things, it didn't bother her nearly as much as it used to. The past was in the past.

Despite that, no matter how many steps the witch would take away from her family, in the end the name remained. The blonde was more than determined to make something of herself without the involvement of her family. Had they not been utterly desperate to cover up what the papers had spilled on them regarding her blood status? Of course, how easy it was to believe for most that it was nothing but a story made up, a threat to their family by those who'd love to tear down the sacred twenty eight. Selma herself had never been asked in that regard. Now she no longer cared to answer the unspoken question.

At his words she couldn't help but roll her eyes, the frustration evident in them. "And just what could Rodolphus Lestrange need from me of all people? Don't you have a goon to do your bidding?" The former Ravenclaw turned around, not entirely bothered with what he may need her guidance with. Nothing good could come from such things. Yet it was a hint of curiosity that caused her to turn. "I'm sure you have others that could handle your potions. And yet even more who'd be willing to give you the advise of a medic, no?" Surely this could be resolved with a couple of words, polite as she could muster to be. - @rodolphusxlestrange

Of course Rodolphus recognized the witch as Selma Avery. He knew the family. A good family other than the fact that they lost a daughter to the other side. But the Blacks had the same problem. These defectors were a stain on pureblood society. As much as she wanted to escape it she couldn’t. She would always be an Avery just as Andromeda and Sirius would be a Black. There’s no running away for good. They were stuck with the name. They were stuck with the social circles growing up. They were stuck. And what better place to be stuck.

Selma tried to hold her composure. He could see it all over her face. He was a reminder and knew it. He was the definition of pureblood and was proud of such a fact. Seeing her fight it amused him.

Rodolphus looked at the herbs in his hand. He had no need for it but didn’t know if he should hand it to her or keep it as a child would. “Good use for it, eh?” he pondered aloud. “I’m sure I could find some use for it,” he shrugged turning the vile around in his hand. He probably could take it to work and play with it but did he want to? That was the question.

When she asked if she could help him Rodolphus’ lips turned upward. He had to take the opportunity. “I could use some guidance and would love your help, Miss Avery.”

[corvusalas]

The world was a thing filled with mysteries and chaos and inexplicable things and ever so filled with secrets; some to be told and some never to be shared among the living. Selma had come to terms with the idea of secrets a very long time ago. Her family had been proof of how far they were willing to go in order to cover up something they wished never to see the light of day, how hard they were willing to fight against the mere notion. The sight of someone once claimed to have been dead seemed just like another thing one wanted to cover up. As much as she had to respect her family's choice and they, in return, her's, it was now her time to respect the choice of another to keep whatever tale it was hidden. "In that case Selma will do just fine." Nothing but a curt nod was given.

It was his next words that peaked her interest, caused the young woman to rise and move around the room as she listened slowly but ever so intently. A small chuckle escaped her yet the sound left no doubt of the lack of amusement within the sound. "The only tempting offer I have been given was to become your healer. That is as far as that goes. I have no interest in having my name associated with the leaking of information that is neither mine to share nor of interest to me. I do not care for galleons, no matter the amount. If I had wanted such things I certainly would not have made the choices I made. I would have stood by my family and lived their lies. Now, you may neither know nor care, but I know the feeling of having other's take what is yours to share. And I for one, knowing the feeling of such foul play, am the furthest from interested in getting involved in such matters." Selma had no doubt that Regulus had no idea who she was beyond the family name that she'd held all this time. A name, nothing more. Perhaps it was best that way.

"Now that we've put that behind us." There was nothing further to be said, her attention instead shifting to the description of issues rather than whatever foul legacy either of their families may carry within their lies and secrets. "May I?" The witch glanced at him for permission, wand held closely to his arm the moment she'd moved over. Nothing would be done without explicit permission given. In the background the blonde could hear the quill scribble away, putting down her thoughts to parchment. "When you drowned, was there anything else involved? What about the depth of water? The issues with the eardrum could very well be due to pressure. If you'd be under deep enough and ruptured said eardrum there is a chance it was broken and, to a degree, healed into a state of disrepair. It could explain the lack of function or heal-ability. Still something one could look into, certainly. if you so wish to. As for the muscle issues, of course a lack of breathing could have taken what the brain needs but there are cases that have suffered through a longer time and yet not suffered near the extend. Was this worse at any point?" - @pxint-it-blxck

Whatever faint surprise that Selma might have been feeling upon seeing Regulus in the flesh, alive and breathing, was well covered. He hardly noticed and that was really saying something because Regulus noticed nearly everything. He watched her carefully before taking a seat across from her and crossing one ankle over the other. "Selma will do just fine, I am sure." Regulus nodded. In truth, he cared very little what he called her. Whatever suited her best was just fine by him. He simply hated the last name that was so tightly attached to his first. Avoiding having it said was always preferrable.

Humming lightly, Regulus nodded. "I appreciate that." He started. "But there are people in this town- This world- that would love nothing more than to expose the house I come from as weak. Or, at least, weakening. I would prefer not to see my name on any head lines for a while. Regardless of how many gillions they offer you." Regulus explained before leaning forwards in his sweat. "If a tempting offer should come across your desk, I will double it for the name of whoever is trying to collect information on myself." He offered, his dark green eyes setting on her. Holding the look for a long moment, Regulus rolled his shoulders and settled once more.

Now that that bit of business was out of the way, he could actually get what he had come here for. "I drown." Regulus stated simply. He did his best not to show his deep displeasure with those two words. "The man who pulled me out of the water estimates I was without oxygen for about three minutes total." He lifted his right arm then to show off its shaking. "I can only lift my arm about this high and my hand trembles constantly. Brain damage, we assume, from the lack of oxygen." He explained as best he could. "And, when I was pulled under water, it was a quick decent. My ear on this side-" Regulus touched the right side of his head. "-Well I can't hear anything threw it." He went on, his eyes only now looking at the ground. Admitting any sort of weakness had been beaten out of him at an early age. A small part of him, the child that had grown up- It half expected to be struck just for speaking about these sorts of things.

[corvusalas]

The war had made quick work of them all, had left them all in one way or another with something to tackle. Each day that the witch was granted without having to work with the aftermath of it all, even this far down the line was something Selma considered a blessing. Yet, not all things could go as smoothly. The surprise had been evident the very moment she'd been informed of having been assigned the case of Regulus Black. It was by far no name she ever considered seeing again and yet the truth sat right in front of her.

She smiled polite as she let parchment and quill float in the air next to them, ever so ready to take notes if she would so require. "Alright." The witch gave a nod. "Just Regulus it is. In this case it would seem only polite not to insist a formal state of conduct regarding my name. The name's Avery, but we'll let that go. Selma will suffice. If you are comfortable with that, that is. Regarding the request for privacy made upon the date set for the appointment, I have no wish to disclose whatever happens behind closed doors. If not for standing a healer, a need for healer-patient confidentiality then certainly out of my own conviction that every person out there deserves a space where they don't have to worry about the world and their view on things."

Without so much as a moment to wait, still leaving the other plenty of space to respond she began to let her eyes drift, scanning the person in front of her to get an idea without necessarily needing to hear it. The quill scribbled away at it, already putting down whatever thoughts came to mind. Despite that the question was aired all the same. "Tell me, what is it I can do for you exactly?" It wasn't a lack of expertise, no. Rather a firm belief that a person could give a better look into the issues at hand than a simple glance. Selma would have to examine him one way or another, what was the harm in asking first?

The young woman's eyes moved back, settling on his face as she awaited the response that would hopefully help bring clarity. Of course there'd been things noted upon making the appointment, but it was all rather strange. There was no judgement there, only a wish to help as best as she could. - @pxint-it-blxck

While there was no doubt in Regulus's mind that without Severus's help he would be dead, Severus was not a medical professional. A brilliant man with both spells and potions but it was about time he see a real doctor after what had happened with him. Dying, that is. They had thought that the constant tremor in his right arm and hand was due to brain injury but perhaps that wasn't the case? Maybe something else was wrong. It was hard to know without actually setting foot in a hospital. The whole losing his hearing in the right ear also seemed to be something so broken that even magic couldn't fix it. Maybe magic wasn't what he needed now. Just some work on his arm and hand. He'd made the appointment a few days after showing his face in public for the first time. The last thing Regulus wanted was for anyone at the hospital to make a fuss over him. Yes, he had seen a few people staring as he walked the hallway after the nurse that was attending him but he could handle that just fine. It was anything more than that which he would find... annoying. Upon being lead into a privet room, Regulus made his way inside and shrugged off his coat. He hung it up before turning his attention towards the woman that was going to be helping him with his physical therapy today. "Just Regulus." He corrected her on his name quickly but calmly. The less he was reminded of his last name right now, the better. "Yes, of course." Regulus nodded once a moved to take a seat across from her. He had asked for a doctor who could be trusted to keep his medical records under lock and key. He did not want to wake up two days from now and read some head line going off about how his brain wasn't quiet working the way it should anymore. "Ask me anything you need." He offered a lighter tone now. She was going to be helping him, after all. Better to start off on a good note.

[corvusalas]

who: @pxint-it-blxck where: st.mungo's

Life at St.Mungo's had almost become normal over the past few months. Here and there a case would stick out but the amount of war-based injuries was going down. There was nothing that could have ever allowed her to remotely feel at ease the way she had before hell broke loose, but it certainly was a step in the right direction.

Selma had been in the middle of sorting her equipment when the knock of one of the medi-assistants announced that one of the few, yet increasing number of appointments she took had arrived. The former Ravenclaw wasted no time, letting them know to send them in without delay before her attention drifted to the chart on her desk.

No matter how she twisted and turned things, there were things she felt like she was missing. Whether it be information or knowledge; one leading to the other. Selma was nothing if not determined, almost burning with a need to help the patient in question live life the way he deserved. Quick flick of the wand and the quill began to take notes on a pad on her desk. That would do for now.

Selma finally turned to face him, feeling in part almost rude for having taken her time before giving the other the attention they deserved. "Mr Black, welcome." The blonde managed a polite smile as she reached for the chart. Whatever little information had been given, it always seemed to make more sense to ask the person in question directly. "We'll move over there in a moment," she paused, pointing toward some of the equipment. "but I do have some questions regarding some things before we get started on that. If you don't mind?"

[corvusalas]

In all her life, with all its twists and turns, had one ever told Selma she would eventually live in her own cottage it would have seemed all too good to be true. Had one added that she'd be taking in someone like Ludo out of the kindness of her heart, the witch would have laughed in their face. Oh, how the times had changed. A part of her was wondering about adjusting the inside of the cottage once more. Perhaps it was space that was needed in order to allow for things to feel more comfortable. At the very least she could attempt to add the alchemy lab extension she'd been wanting for a while.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the rather intense call of her name. "Merlin." The blonde let the sigh escape as she rushed toward the sound only to be met with Ludo lounging on the sofa, clearly enjoying themself far too much for her liking. "What is it?" The witch dropped the cloth, fumbling as she folded it neatly. "Based on the way that sounded I thought something bad had happened."

Was this the first time? It would have been a lie had Selma ever made claims regarding the frequency of such events. "If you plan on placing that bottle down on the table, use a coaster or I will blast that bottle." She turned toward the kitchen. "Or is this about the fact that you are holding the last bottle?" - @ludcvicb

Ludo had been taken by complete surprise when Rita had kicked them out. The two of them had been through so much together and they were positive that she was going to get over it and forgive their infidelity, but they were wrong. Rita went ahead and posted in the paper that Ludo needed a new place to live, and they knew in that moment that the two of them really were officially over.

That's how Ludo ended up living with Selma. She really did have a heart of gold and helped them out in their time of need, and for that Ludo would be eternally grateful. However, they were quite an unlikely pair and living with a stranger proved to be rather difficult. Especially after being so used to having a fiancee that did almost everything they asked for, it was a difficult transition and they weren't taking to it very well.

Laying down on the sofa, Ludo tilted their head back, allowing the final drops of beer slide out of the bottle and down their throat. It was the last bottle left in the house. "Selmaaaa!" They called, wondering if she was planning on leaving the house anytime soon.

@corvusalas

[corvusalas]

LITTLE WOMEN (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig

[corvusalas]

Truthfully, the whole situation felt a bit as though she'd just invaded someone's personal space; someone's precious time. Was that her own insecurity? Perhaps. Every now and then it would surface within the witch that usually walked the world with feet firmly planted on the ground. With a soft smile gracing her features she slipped into the opposite seat, glancing over at Peter curiously. "Thank you."

Her smile never leaving, a chuckle mixed itself in with the gesture as she glanced over at the other once again. "I remember you, from the Order. I hope you don't mind." Selma recalled quite a few faces, even if at times she'd perhaps not had much to do with them. Life had a funny way of letting people pass one another hundreds of times without ever giving a reason for one to talk to other for more than a few words. Life was a most complicated thing. "It's just nice to sit among a somewhat familiar face in a crowded place like this." - @wxrmtxil

Peter (as usual) jumped in his seat when the woman spoke to him, taking a few moments to actually realise what she’d said before he looked back at his crossword, “O-oh, thank you,” he said, blinking up at her and taking a moment to fill the word in. “It’s uh, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” Almost any time he did one of these at home one of the other boys would chime in with an answer or- in some cases- a ridiculous guess to try and earn a chuckle. 

“You can.” Peter nodded, not sure why she’d want to, but then he might’ve been the best of a bad pick. “I mean uhh, I don’t mind,” he assed quietly, cheeks flushing as he almost hid behind his book and took another sip of his butterbeer.  

[corvusalas]

Frank: Much appreciated. Frank: Sorry for worrying you though. Selma: Don't mention it. Selma: Comes with the territory. Selma: Is the ministry giving you guys hell again?

[corvusalas]

✉ | Selma ⇄ Rodolphus

Rodolphus: Such a pretty little face. Selma: And it'll stay that way. Selma: What do you want?

[corvusalas]

There were many a things that went through her head that moment, things that reminded her of a past she had left behind all too happily, but also things that brought back the joy of a fresh start in a new world. Of sorts. It wasn't an entirely new world and there was still far too much left wrong with it. Time would heal those wounds, hopefully. For everyone.

"I do. Finished my training a few months ago." The witch gave a shrug. "Then again, I don't suppose any healer ever finishes learning the art of healing, hm?" Her eyes shot up, glancing at the one beside her. "I'm mainly found in the Janus Thickery Ward. Curses, spell damage; that sort of thing. Also the department for plant and potion damage." Selma very much prided herself on the fact that she had accomplished more than her family had ever thought possible, all on her own.

The former Ravenclaw finally turned to face Fenrir properly, vial snatched from his hand with an almost delicate swoosh. "Why the sudden interest? Doesn't look like you're in the need for a healer." And yet, curiosity told her to keep her eyes open. - @wolfruled

As it happened, her pursuits were more noble than his own. Rather than for an antidote, his use of the herb was purely a punishment—the foul taste would make any unruly cub think twice before sticking their noses where they didn't belong. But more noble wasn't necessarily the same as more deserving. Love potions weren't fatal, after all, just a bit of a nuisance. Mungo's would see worse. Her answer—that answer—had piqued Greyback's interest. "You work at Mungo's, do you? How nice. Was just there not too long ago, myself." At one point, he had been a regular. Monthly, even. Not for himself, but for the less fortunate of his kind that still found themselves in the mindset of submitting instead of running free. A stay there could make almost any werewolf want for something more—the werewolf ward was not generally well-received.

"What is it you do, then?" he asked, slowly, wordlessly, holding out the vial for her to take. A favor for a favor, perhaps; gurdyroot to sate his curiosity. "You're not always the errand witch, are you?" @corvusalas

[corvusalas]

In a world like their's there was always the chance of bumping into the odd fellow here or there. In fact, a part of her expected it. Another part almost knew that sooner or later one of those meetings would turn out to be with someone unavoidable or at other times, someone entirely unexpected. The face coming into her vision that day fell into the latter category. Tales were one thing, the deeds of the other another, and Selma had by far spent enough time having to deal with the stories told. Yet, when it came to her own opinion her mind would be made up by the actions of a being much rather than the stories told. Unless clear evidence would prevent the need for such things.

"Well, I can't claim this need to be stronger than that of others." The former Ravenclaw shifted, turning her body to properly face the one who'd made equal claim to the small vial. "If you must know, I need it for an anti love potion. Mungo's gets quite busy around Valentine's day and the weeks after. Never know how long people wait to eat the treats of a less than wanted admirer." Selma couldn't help the chuckle. No, this person deserved her kindness and respect as much as the next person.

A shrug as she glanced toward the small stand. "Why, what do you need it for? I can get some from the apothecary." Truthfully, she could. This was mere browsing of goods before picking up her order. "If you need it, please take it. I have no doubts that Mungo's will have ample supply of it. I just want to make sure no poor being has to stumble about doing Merlin knows what due to the effects of a potion." It was one thing to worry about the person in front of her, another to discard simple manners. It just wouldn't do. - @wolfruled

It was a cruel irony that those who would be punished by it would seek out healing most. It was unavoidable, as far as curses—blessings—were concerned. If a simple spell couldn't fix it, something less convenient was required. It was how Greyback found himself rooting around in shops, spending hard-earned ( if undeserved ) coins to line the pockets of those he hated most. Ridiculous? Certainly... but out of his control, for now. "Maybe I did," he said, flashing rows of sharp and crooked teeth. It was hard to believe that so many of them—wix—could stand at the top without question. Most were much like her, shrinking back at the first sign of conflict. They were too used to being unchallenged, too used to keeping knowledge for themselves. In many ways, that stood to his advantage—in spite of the shame of the end of the war, he could still pick off whoever he pleased. More or less.

"Tell you what," Fenrir continued, plucking the small vial straight from the shelf. "You tell me what you need it for, and we'll see who needs it more." It wasn't exactly a fair fight. He had enough internal prejudices to assume that he would need it more than his most hated adversaries. Anger was easy that way—easier still to convince himself that she would do the same to him, with the right information. And if not, she was a fool. It was the only way of life he knew.

[corvusalas]

It wasn't until the other's voice reached her ears that she turned. While in most cases she perhaps could have seen herself look on in curiosity, the voice of the other left no doubt about just who she was facing. The part of society she had once called her home had left no room for error in that regard and it filled her mouth with a taste all the more bitter for it. Rodolphus Lestrange was everything Selma had worked on so hard to get away from; to leave behind and never look back even if her own family had chosen to remain friendly with them. No, that was the wrong term. Her family wasn't friendly with them, they were part of it all.

Selma's eyes left no doubt that this wasn't an encounter she enjoyed, yet she lacked a certain fear or worry that some may have seen healthy in such a situation. "Not a pickle at all." Her own voice held a certain level of disdain for the other, masked very little. This was her way of keeping her promise to herself: No more pretending to be something she wasn't. And gladly so. "I'm sure you'll find some good use for it."

There was an abundance of words that came to mind when it came to Rodolphus. Not only to describe the wizard in front of her, but also things that under different circumstances the young witch would have loved to have thrown his way. "Is there anything else you need before I continue this shopping trip?" Her words certainly left no doubt that her preferred way of going about this would be without him. "Or is there anything else I can help you with?" Politeness at best.

The former Ravenclaw glanced down the alley, eyes peering toward the apothecary. If need be she would simply come back to pick up her order later. - @rodolphusxlestrange

In no way was Rodolphus a healer or potioneer but he was interested in the way potions affected the mind. That meant having a working knowledge of them regardless of not having liked the subject in school — although he excelled in the subject without trying. He would find himself stalking ingredients from time to time, never buying anything but noting their name to later research.

Rodolphus was out in Diagon Alley. The sun was out but the air was whipping. His signature leather coat and high top boots kept him as warm as he needed to be. Those two accessories always kept him as warm as needed regardless of the weather, including the harsh weather. Being born in the middle of winter made him harsh. Damn sunny days.

He was passing by a healer's shop where he saw some ingredients. His eyes shifted as he scanned over each of them haphazardly. Without hardly stopping, he reached for the gurdyroot, beating someone to the punch.

Rodolphus grabbed the vile and chuckled, more to himself. "Oh, you wanted this?" He said, sounding as sincere as possible but not caring in the slightest whether the witch wanted it or not. Oftentimes he was a man-child. Rodolphus was just happy to have something someone else wanted. "I wanted it too." Rodolphus batted his eyelashes, sarcasm dripping from them. "Such a pickle."

[corvusalas]

✉ | Frank ⇄ Selma

Frank: Nothing to worry about. With me still standing by it's best you don't know. Selma: Consider me worried either way. Selma: I'll send some stuff over later. Can't be too careful, given your line of work.

[corvusalas]

lady in red

[corvusalas]

It was a delight to be met with a familiar face and even bigger delight to be able to smile back with the same enthusiasm that had greeted her mere moments before. "No need to feel hurt. It was mainly going to be a work related purchase. And," She paused, chuckling, "only something done because I have an order to pick up inside. A book, not a potion. I was going to drop by at the apothecary later."

The witched glanced down the alley for a moment before adjusting the bag on her shoulder with a sigh. There were quite a few things on her list before she'd have the chance to make it to the apothecary. Perhaps she'd be able to allow herself a small detour, though. There were benefits in pushing the visit to the apothecary forward, surely. "I better be prepared. Valentine's day is a nightmare at St. Mungo's. Don't think I have to tell you how many people think love potions are the way to go. If last year's any indication, a choir of fresh mandrakes may make for a better evening." Thinking back to the pour soul, struck with a love potion, serenading the halls of St. Mungo's in a most horrid way sent shivers down her spine.

"That aside, how's the shop going?" Selma couldn't help the curiosity. If there was something she could finally do without ever worrying about limitations again it certainly was to take an interest in things her family may not have approved of before. The people she now called her friends were all people the former Ravenclaw was proud to be associated with. "I may have to stock up on a few things. Got any of this by any chance?" The young woman held out her list of things with a smile. - @tiltoots

It was rare for Tilden to have a day off. Running a shop was hard work, but he trusted that Dahlia would be able to watch over things while he enjoyed some time to himself. Yet, time to himself ended up being spent in Diagon Alley, regardless. It wasn't intentional by any means, he simply set out to go for a walk, and his feet brought him to the Alley.

Finding himself back in Diagon Alley did give Tilden an idea. It wasn't often he had time to scope out his competition, not that there really was any competition. Tilden's shop had been known to be the best apothecary around, always having stock of items that were hard to find, along with a stock of freshly brewed potions daily. He took pride in knowing he was doing quite well for himself.

Spotting a familiar face, his smile grew wider. It was always nice to see a regular customer, but even nicer to see them outside of the shop. Selma had always been kind and supportive of him. Hearing her question, Tilden shook his head, waving his hand as though he was physically waving away her concerns. "No, no. I've got lots at the shop. Speaking of the shop - are you cheating on me with this random vendor? I'm quite hurt, Selma."

[corvusalas]

✉ | Frank ⇄ Selma

Frank: The less you know, the better. Selma: What is going on? Should I be worried? Selma: Certainly not a text I could have predicted.

@frank-auguste

[corvusalas]

✉ | Regulus ⇄ Selma

Regulus: You need to make more of those berry things. Regulus: I will PAY you. Selma: Oh? Seems like someone liked them more than anticipated. Selma: Consider it done ! Selma: How are you doing?