With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
Some two weeks had passed since Wolfgang had crashed the peaceful idyll of the Linwood farm by having to be stitched up after taking a battering from a full grown man. Even though Isobel's mother didn't hold a particularly high opinion of the young man, she'd insisted he stay at the farm for the duration of the summer break. She'd even allowed him to stay in Isobel's bed, rather than lay on the couch or be sent to sleep in a haystack, next to the sheep.
He didn't know how to feel about it. A large part of him was grateful for everything -- for cleaning him up, for giving him a roof above his head when he had none (even if they didn't know that), for giving him three square meals every day without any complaints or any remarks that he would be in their debt. The other part of him was having a tough time understanding such an altruistic act. His pride, though wounded, wasn't going to let him walk up to Isobel's parents and thank them. He'd tried once, after dinner, when he'd found himself alone in the kitchen with Andrew, but the words just wouldn't come out. He'd lingered in the doorway for a few moments, his jaw ajar, but ultimately headed back to Isobel's room to hide under the blankets and reread one of the few books he had with him, just to forget how hot his cheeks were.
These conflicting feelings made Wolfgang retreat into Isobel's room for most of the time, coming out only for meals and trips to the bathroom. For the first few days it was okay, as he was confined to the bed, sleeping for hours on end, letting his body heal. The next few days after that he'd went through any entertainment his belongings could provide him. He'd extended his suitcase with the help of magic and shoved everything he could in it, but only a few things from it all could keep him entertained. His laptop would never work in a place so saturated with magic, and Wolfgang doubted there was any internet on this island, anyhow.
As the days passed, he got more and more restless. He had the option of going outside, but the winter weather in Falklands was downright nasty, he didn't want to risk getting lost in the middle of nowhere, and Isobel wasn't even allowed to go out in her own front yard. While it meant he couldn't take a walk with her, he thought it was deserved -- what she had done was... Well, stupid didn't even begin to cover it. But he'd never say that out loud.
He needed to do something before he went mad from boredom. Then, one afternoon, lounging around in bed while Isobel was quietly sketching something, Wolfgang finally had a brilliant idea.
"Isobel, would you like to have a dance lesson?"
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 13, 2020 16:52:05 GMT
the state of dreaming
Even the presence of Wolfgang couldn't really fix the boredom and humiliation that Isobel was enduring for the rest of the break. Not only was she back at the farm, but she couldn't even walk around the island, much less Floo her way to Britain, where she would much prefer to spend her time. She was nearly eighteen, and still she wasn't able to avoid the punishment of her parents. Sometimes it helped that Wolfgang was allowed to stay, but other times she wished he would never know how her life at home was.
She was still drawing, even if she felt like many of her sketches all looked the same, which she chalked up to the fact that she seemed to be staring at the same four walls at all times. Sighing, she took an eraser to the page yet again, when Wolfgang, previously silent, spoke up from where he was sitting on the bed.
Even though she knew now that Wolfgang's upbringing had been unhappy, she still found herself a little envious of the way he knew so many of the things she'd always wanted--like dancing. There were no classes in ballet or ballroom or jazz on the lonely, southern island, and so Isobel had never learned, even though she'd very much wanted to.
And now she had someone to teach her--but it still felt awkward to admit her failings, even if she knew he was already well aware.
"Sure, we can," she said, setting down her pencil and turning around, "but I still don't think I'll be any good."
He watched Isobel's reaction to his suggestion, and to his great discontent, she seemed rather resigned about it. He'd thought she'd react with enthusiasm -- after all, wasn't this what she wanted? Then again, she hadn't been in a good mood for a while now for reasons known to everyone, so perhaps he should have expected this. Either way, he wasn't going to let her mope around any longer.
"Darling," he said, getting up from the bed and walking over to her, taking her hands in his and gently pulling her up from her seat, "That's why they are lessons. So you would learn and become better. Come now," he continued, slowly twirling her around so that he would be behind her and one of his arms would wrap around her waist, embracing her. He was in the perfect position to press a kiss under her ear, and as he continued talking, his lips were still pressed to her warm skin.
"I suggest we go downstairs, as your room doesn't have the space we need. Living room? If nobody else is sitting there, that is." He hummed for a few moments, considering their options, "I suggest we waltz. I'm not sure I'm ready for anything fast paced yet, as tango... Unless you insist we do that."
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 15, 2020 18:35:42 GMT
the state of dreaming
Isobel allowed Wolfgang to pull her from her chair, even though she was skeptical of the idea. The last time she'd danced--well, it had been interrupted by the attack, which colored everything about that night, but still, before that had happened, she'd stumbled her way through an attempt at tango. She knew, because she'd researched it, that its complex rhythms took practice, but she'd been so worried about rejecting Wolfgang that she'd tried it anyway.
Well, it hadn't caused him to reject her, so perhaps it hadn't been a total disaster, but she remembered the embarrassment acutely. She did want to go to another dance, though, just not until she knew a style she could do in front of other people without humiliating herself.
"Something easier than the tango, yes," she said, nodding, twisting in Wolfgang's arms to look him in the eyes. "I can probably manage that. But are you sure you want to do it downstairs? Mia-Rose will laugh at us. Mum and Dad will probably think we're strange, too." She had never seen either of them dance before--they would probably say there was no reason to do that at the farm. Isobel couldn't even remember if they'd ever had a real party there, only the occasional visit from some grandparents who didn't want to be around the sheep anyway, which always made Isobel feel embarrassed as well, in an entirely different way from the dance thing.
"Since when do you care for Mia-Rose's opinion?" Wolfgang asked, an unimpressed smirk appearing on his face, "As I've noticed, she thinks anything more refined than farm life is weird to her, and I don't recall you ever sharing that opinion. As for your parents," he paused for a moment. Last time he'd expressed his opinions on the Linwood couples views it had ended with Wolfgang storming out of the kitchen with Isobel in tow, and still hadn't apologized for the scene. He didn't have an ounce of regret about the words he'd said, not at all, but... He'd certainly could have done it in a more dignified manner.
It didn't seem like her parents opinions about her life plans had changed over the past few months, and after the recent events Wolfgang wouldn't be surprised that they would want to cage her on this island with it's atrocious weather and mind-numbing isolation even more than they had before. Sure, they had good intentions, but to Wolfgang it seemed like smothering with love.
"They think your wish to be a designer and an artist is weird too. Let them think what they want, they can't stop you from living your life, so why let them stop you from having fun?" He pressed a kiss to her forehead before breaking their embrace and taking her hand, ready to lead her downstairs.
"Come now, lets free us some space. It'll be nice, dancing by the fireplace. Only... Do you have anything that could play music?"
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 28, 2020 18:07:59 GMT
the state of dreaming
Frowning, Isobel considered Wolfgang's words about her younger sister. It was true that she'd always considered Mia-Rose's opinions ridiculous, but it was also hard to avoid the stab of shame when her younger sister found a reason to mock her. It had been that way since both girls were little.
Although, after everything that had happened, after Isobel had realized that she cared enough about her sister to attempt revenge--well, maybe it was a good idea to change a little bit about how she thought about her.
"I suppose it's alright, then. If they laugh at us, well..." Isobel shrugged. "It can't be worse than the last time I brought up art." She was sure that, at this point, after she'd left home for those few weeks, that her parents knew about her dedication to art and design, but the fact that the argument had occurred at all still felt bitter.
"There's a radio downstairs. It doesn't pick up much, all the way out here, but we can connect the record player to the speakers on it. I think we'll have to dig through the records to find anything worth waltzing to, though. Not sure that's the kind of thing my parents listen to." Linking her hand in Wolfgang's, she led him down to the living room, pointing at the wooden box that contained the radio.
"If they laugh, I'll put them in their place," Wolfgang said, his lips pressing into a thin line as he sighed. He didn't want to argue with the Linwoods again, and he knew Isobel wouldn't be too thrilled about yet another argument, but he wasn't going to let Isobel's parents stomp all over her dreams.
Thankfully, they were on the move now, Wolfgang following his girlfriend down the creaky stairs, listening to her words. "A record player," he repeated, letting go of her hand and kneeling in front of the device, his fingertips gliding over the wooden embellishments. "How delightfully vintage. I've never used one of these before," he admitted. "And this radio... Looks like it's from the 30ies?" At this point Wolfgang was more talking to himself than Isobel, looking at the two devices, trying to figure out how would wizards connect them. He didn't see any wires poking from the back of the radio, nor the record player... It made him wonder what was inside -- were these just muggle manufactured and then charmed, or, perhaps, they were built in an entirely different way?
The vinyl records were located in a drawer underneath the radio, and Wolfgang lifted out the whole pile -- some two dozen -- before placing them on the living room coffee table.
"Your parents taste in music isn't exactly what I expected," he commented, sorting through, "Do you like any of this?"
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all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 29, 2020 17:34:16 GMT
the state of dreaming
"Vintage? It's all we've ever had!" It was easy to tell from that one sentence that Wolfgang was connected to the Muggle side of his heritage. Isobel knew that there were all sorts of new music players that Muggles had come up with, but as they didn't work at Hogwarts anyway, there was no point in trying to navigate a Muggle shop to get one. She wouldn't even know what to call them.
Sitting on the couch, she picked up the record on top of the stack, her nose wrinkling. "These have to be my mum's," she said, shaking her head. Wizard disco--she was sure she'd heard this band still on the WWN, even though the musicians must be ancient at this point.
"Look at the bottom of the pile," she suggested, setting the disco album aside. "They have to have something classical--or someone did, before them." Isobel's grandparents didn't come around often enough for her to know their taste in music, but after living in this house for decades, there were still plenty of their belongings around. "I don't really know what's the best for dancing, but we'll look for a waltz--do you think this would work?" She held up an album with the word Strauss across the front. "On the back it says there are waltzes in here..."
"I see that ABBA has crossed over into the wizard world," he said, lifting up another one of the records, "I suppose there are worse choices out there." Like screamo, or ska, or... There were a lot of music genres that Wolfgang considered nothing more than noise pollution. There were disco recordings, big band and jazz recordings from the States published during World War 2, mostly wizard music with a few muggle names here and there. And then there was the extensive classical music section, among which was the record Isobel had pointed out.
"Ah, Strauss... Let me have a look at that," he reached out to take the old, yellowed cardboard sleeve from Isobel, skimming over the list of contents. "Yes, this will work. I haven't listened to any of these in quite a while, so I don't exactly recall their speeds, but The Blue Danube is a true classic... Lets put this on, shall we?"
Without waiting for her answer, Wolfgang took out the large black disc from the sleeve and handed it to Isobel. He didn't have a clue how their version of the player worked, since there was no on button in sight, so, while Isobel was setting up the music, he freed space in the middle of the room, just enough so that they'd have somewhere to turn around rather than just doing the same square over and over.
In a few more moments they stood in the middle of the living room, hands in position, listening to the first track on the record. Alas, it was way, way too fast for a beginners lesson.
"Oh dear, this won't do at all," he started, a smile on his face -- he didn't mean to discourage Isobel -- but, before he could continue, the door opened.
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all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Aug 30, 2020 16:30:21 GMT
the state of dreaming
Isobel placed her arm lightly around Wolfgang's shoulder, as if afraid that holding him too tight would ruin the dance. It was nothing like the usual way that she might hug him, but she still felt uneasy about dancing with him again, as if she might step on his toes and have nowhere to hide from the embarrassment now that they were both sleeping in her room.
She was ready to step at any moment, repeating what should be a simple pattern in her head until she was sure she couldn't miss any of it, when Wolfgang shook his head as soon as the music swelled.
"It was a pretty one, though," she offered, as Wolfgang stepped away, leaving her standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Isobel tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, waiting for him to return, when her mother's head poked into the room.
"I didn't know you liked classical music so much, Isobel," Mum said, although the smile on her face was kind.
"We were just--" Isobel frowned, certain that she would be laughed at. "We wanted to try and waltz. Only we can't find one we like."
Mum picked up the sleeve that was laying on the table, separate from the records that Isobel and Wolfgang had rejected. "Well, the Blue Danube is probably the most famous," she suggested. "You'll have heard that before, I'm sure--or Roses from the South is quite pretty."
Isobel blinked, not remembering her mother ever having such opinions on music that she normally would have considered old and stuffy. "We can try it, I guess." She looked back and forth between Wolfgang and Mum, hoping that her mother would leave before anyone else showed up to watch them stumble around the living room.
The intruder was none other than Sarah Linwood, Isobel's mother. Both of the young people became tense upon her arrival -- Wolfgang knew Isobel was embaressed by not knowing how to dance, and even more so by others knowing that she didn't know. Even if it was only her mother. But, then again, it was her mother, who was skeptical of Isobel's wishes to become an artist, and who, in Wolfgang's mind, would nothing more for her daughter than to be a farmhand, which meant a lifetime of misery for his girlfriend.
To his great surprise, no mocking remarks followed. Rather, she went and suggested tracks from the record. He supposed she might have listened through all of them at least once in the long, lonely winter evenings, so it wasn't all that surprising...
"Considering the present company, " Wolfgang said, taking Isobel's hand and giving it a light squeeze, "Roses of the South seem most appropriate. Mrs. Linwood, could you switch the track for us?" Once again, they were standing in position, Wolfgang ready to lead the dance.
But only after a few awry squares on the spot Isobel let go of him, her face flushed red. Her mother's presence wasn't letting her focus. Before Wolfgang could find any words of encouragement though, his eyebrows raised in surprise, as Sarah Linwood asked Isobel to move aside, and without much ceremony assumed her daughter's place as Wolfgang's dance partner.
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all i really want is to be wonderful/people in this town, they can be so cruel
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Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Sept 5, 2020 17:14:14 GMT
the state of dreaming
Frustrated and frowning, Isobel stepped off to the side, wishing she could disappear into the fireplace, to go somewhere that nobody knew her and how awkward she could be. But no, she was still forbidden from going anywhere without her parents, at least if she wanted to continue to live peacefully in their house.
She crossed her arms as she watched her mother dance with Wolfgang--why was she acting so nice? After the argument they'd had just weeks ago? Bitterly, Isobel thought, as she watched them circle around the small space in what seemed like an effortless manner, maybe she was trying to show off. What the motivation for that could be, she didn't know, but seeing her mother be good at something she'd claimed to always hate, while Isobel had loved it but never gotten the chance to learn... well, it made her fists curl, her nails digging into her palms painfully.
"Wolfgang? Mum? I think I'm going to go back upstairs." The smile that Isobel gave them didn't quite reach her eyes. "Have fun." She turned, ready to head back up to her room and shove her face into her pillow alone for a while.
Sarah Linwood certainly knew how to waltz. She didn't miss a beat when the music sped up and Wolfgang lead her from the basic steps straight into the head-spinning turns of the Viennese style. It was an exhilarating experience, the thrill of the crescendo... At least it would have been, if Wolfgang wasn't pestered by questions.
"Mrs. Linwood, for someone who's spent the last two decades or so at a farm, you're very nimble," he commented, looking right into her eyes, "How come your daughters aren't nearly as adept? At least Isobel, who, as I know, has wanted it for years?" If Sarah Linwood had known all these years, that Isobel wanted to learn how to dance -- and he was sure she knew -- then why wasn't Isobel given a chance? He didn't know the answer, not yet, but if it was another way of trying to suppress her eldest daughter's love for the finer things in life, Sarah would lose the respect she'd gained by nursing him back to health.
Before she could answer, Isobel was telling them to have fun and that she was going back to her room, and that made Wolfgang halt right then and there, in the middle of a spin. His brows were furrowed in confusion for a moment -- and then he could feel a sharp pain in his chest, an overwhelming sadness washing over him.
"No, Isobel," he said, letting go of her mother, offering her a quick nod, "We came here to dance. So we shall dance." Gently, he took her hands and pulled her into a tight hug, whispering into her ear, "You and I. We'll take it slow and steady,". His lips brushed first against her cheek, and then against her lips for good measure, and then, once again, they were standing in position.
By now the track had switched, and the gentle first tones of The Blue Danube waltz filled the living room.
"And one-two-three, one-two-three..."
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