#event. ﹙ 044. appleby autumnfest ﹚

[hopcflowered]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: appleby autumnfest, apple bobbing station. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: open to all ( @startertms ) !!

any excuse to let basil set free all of the energy in his bones was a good one for moira, it meant she would have an easier bedtime routine - not to say basil was tough to put to sleep, but most nights were spent listening to the same list of bug facts that have now been engrained into moira's mind. she counts down with the stall owner as basil bounces excitedly at the wooden barrel, red and green spheres bobbing up and down inside. "go go go, bas!" clapping enthusiastically, her son's face split wide into a mixture of anticipation and excitement before he began his tirade on the unsuspecting fruits - it took everything in her to not snort with her laughter. basil was both careful and reckless in his movements, teeth gnashing like a wild animal as his mother held her stomach from the joyful giggles spilling from parted lips; it was when the teeth connected with a shiny, red apple that they softened. the six year old jumped up with wide eyes, covered in water and arms held in the air with triumph. he had done it. the stall owner ruffled basil's damp curls at his win. "well done, buddy!" moira grinned, watching as his arms begin to bounce in time with dancing feet, "you've put us all to shame."

[hcldmybroom]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: can you please pick a card, any card  ...  not that card. 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: appleby autumnfest. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for justin finch-fletchley ( @hoggleswart )

fingers hover over the cards spread out in front of her, a smirk brightening features as she watches the panic settle over her companions face - minette was certainly having her fun at the appleby autumnfest. she had mainly come to participate in the pumpkin carving and apple bobbing, old time classic that were once childhood favourites back in montpillier when she was but a small girl, and yet she had now been drawn into some card trick by a familiar face. "are you sure it's not the right card?" a giggle falls from her lips as she tempts to pull it from the pack before raising her slender fingers again, "would you care to show me which card you'd like me to choose?"

[danc3away]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: the door’s locked. 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: appleby autumnfest. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for ezekiel burke ( @hoggleswart )

"i . . . i know that." she didn't. her hand hovers over the gilded door knob, the cruel features of the door knocker almost laughing at the squib's actions. haruhi had never been to appleby, hell she hadn't stepped out of london since she made her residence there, so a little exploring during the festival seemed like an apt activity. retreating her hand into the pocket of her jacket, bottom lip is slipped between teeth as she bites down - a nervous habit formed from a young age - haruhi had heard a rumour that her eldest brother was lurking at the festival and deemed a little curiosity an excuse to catch sight of him. "i was simply . . . checking. you never know these days," looking to the wizard, thin lips are pulled into a tight smile, "anyone could just barge in to places."

[bemyhcro]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: that smile, on your face … is it real? 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: appleby autumnfest, night time. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed to lavender brown ( @hoggleswart )

"what if it is?" they're perched in the corner of a pub in appleby, a small booth away from the crowd by the bar, but still enveloped in the cosy warmth of the autumnfest that had overtaken the wixen community - not to mention, autumn was paxton's favourite time of year. his hands are smudged with charcoal as fingers work quick and deftly at finishing the page of mundane sketches, warm butterbeer sitting forgotten on the table as the artist flickers tired eyes between paper and muse - lavender brown. "hold that perplexed face, just for a second more." grinning from ear-to-ear, paxton hides his chuckle behind stained fingers before scratching away at the page in a final descent of artistry. "and i am . . ." smudge here, shade there and a tap of the pencil on the page, "done!" sliding the page over to lavender, his features soften as he watches her carefully - the view of lavender was through his own eyes, through the eyes of someone who knew her and her life and the decisions that led her to this point. "what d'ya think?"

[hopcflowered]

"i thought there was . . ." at this moment, moira is not willing to admit that she has never carved a pumpkin and typically lets ethel do that with basil - the feeling of the pulp inside was already causing a cringing shiver to resonate along her skin. at the moment, moira's pumpkin was half mush and half stab wounds from her haphazard cutting with a tiny little blade provided, one that most definitely couldn't pierce the flesh of a tomato, nevermind a pumpkin. basil was cross-legged at her side and, like marco, was using a sharpie to doodle on the pumpkin rind - at the moment it was covered in moths, spiders and ants. "the boys would do better than us at this rate," the faux blonde pouts as she leans back, gaze moving slowly to follow andie's idea and survey the other carvers. "you take the granny and i'll take the scrawny redhead?"

prompt:    oh,  i  did  it  wrong? for:    closed  to  moira  graves.    (  @hopcflowered  ) location:    the  appleby  autumnfest.

＂  there’s  a  right  way  to  pumpkin  carve?  ＂  the  question  sounds  rational  enough  to  her,  but  slow  glance  around  at  the  other  attendees  participating  has  her  wondering  otherwise.  their  commitment  shows  in  furrowed  brows  and  when  she  accidentally  makes  eye  contact  with  one,  they  lean  away    /    turn  their  pumpkin  to  shield  it  from  view,  as  if  their  neighbour  might  steal  their  design.  it  sure  is  a  sight  to  behold.  damn,  some  people  took  their  autumn  festivities  to  a  whole  new  level.  their  artistic  designs  make  her  own  jagged  lines  and  messy  gut  -  scooping  look  like  child’s  play,  which    (  in  her  defence  )    it  was;  marco  sat  beside  her  with  a  sharpie  to  doodle  whatever  he  liked  onto  orange  rind.  ＂  i  sit  corrected.  i  think  we  might  both  be  doing  this  wrong.  ＂  forehead  leans  into  sticky  hand  and  she  turns  back  to  moira,  nose  wrinkled  slightly,  voice  lowering  as  not  to  upset  the  hard  -  workers  around  them.  ＂  i  vote  we  steal  one  of  theirs.    —-    snatch  and  run.  i  bet  they’d  never  catch  us.  ＂      

[hopcflowered]

𝐩𝐫��𝐦𝐩𝐭: "we can always go to the pumpkin patch instead." ( roshana cresswell / @hoggleswart ) 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: the appleby autumnfest.

"well..." moira nibbles at her lip as she thinks back to earlier in the week when she and andie had attempted to join in with the pumpkin carving competition, the crooked eyes and jagged mouth-job was enough to curdle her stomach even now. in this moment, moira should have suggested something different, something more fun, but she had the mistake to look to the children and there it was, her weakness - lips popped out, eyes blown wide and little hands clasped together in a prayer. a prayer for pumpkins. "i suppose we could - " before the sentence was complete, basil was already pulling her away from where the small group had been stood in decision, a grin spreading across his face. "looks like the pumpkin patch it is."

[bemyhcro]

"i read that being mysterious and spooky is charming to some, y'know?" he won't admit it, but the book he read this in may have been a romance hidden far beneath his bed at home - not ashamed, just embarrassed. perhaps paxton was too complex these days, no longer just the dumb jock who threw stories of his 'heroic' father around with reckless abandon; now he was an artist, a worker, a lover, a traitor. but arthur did not know of the latter, thankfully. his stomach drops momentarily at the thought, the disappointment, the FURY in arthur's eyes if he found out the truth. paxton knew about the plot against ginny, he has stood by in every meeting of the order and fed back to bellatrix, he was a good for nothing rat. the paternal figure's words resonate with the young man as a small, and geunine, smile ghosts across his lips. "i may get that engraved on my grave when i pass, arthur. quite the romantic . . ." every book deserves at least one avid reader. the poor soul who read paxton holloway may be forever turned at the stomach, unfortunately. "sorry for turning the mood down, it's hard not to feel low when autumn kicks in."

prompt:    i  can  be  difficult  to  read  when  i  wanna  be. for:    closed  to  paxton  holloway.    (  @bemyhcro  ) location:    the  appleby  autumnfest.

＂  there’s  no  harm  in  adding  a  bit  of  mystery  to  life  every  now  and  then.    ⸻    or  so  i’ve  heard.  i  confess,  i  myself  have  never  been  too    …    enigmatic.  ＂  he  used  to  wish  he  would.  oh,  how  a  younger  arthur  weasley  yearned  to  have  more  depth  to  him.  to  be  the  one  that  people  wondered  and  whispered  about,  but  the  truth  was,  he  had  always  been  an  open,  ordinary  book.  honest,  reliable.  older  than  his  years,  until  he  was  simply  older.  it  doesn’t  bother  him  so  much  now.  if  anything,  he  values  such  simplicity.  paxton  is  different.  not  dishonest  or  unreliable,  but  simply  harder  to  decipher.  guarded  almost.  ＂  it’s  important  to  remember  though,  that  it’s  okay  to  let  people  understand  you  sometimes.  it  reassures  us  we’re  not  alone.  ＂  he’s  lucky,  he  realises,  to  have  always  had  somebody.  hard  -  working  parents,  absent  for  all  the  right  reasons.  siblings,  to  test  his  patience.  molly,  a  constant  since  they  were  both  teenagers  in  love  and  the  children  that  love  brought  them.  being  difficult  to  read  felt  impossible  when  surrounded  by  so  many.  ＂  every  book  deserves  at  least  one  avid  reader.  ＂  perhaps  sage  words  of  advice  push  past  the  usual  boundaries  of  colleague  and  boss.  however,  they’re  not  in  the  office  and  paternal  nature  will  outweigh  professional  mannerisms  at  every  turn.  it’s  just  who  he  was.

[hopcflowered]

moira had taken alfie's advice back in st mungos, to let others take care of her and speed up her own recovery to get her home to basil - and from the moment she was discharged, moira has been finding excuses to take basil out every weekend. hence their attendance at the festival. "hear that, bas. you've impressed an auror with your skills." mother nudges son on the shoulder with a cheeky grin spreading across soft features, basil spinning to look up at roshana with sparkling eyes - oh, how he loved making friends. popping the apple from his mother and holding the soggy fruit out to his mother, basil speaks a loud and proud hiya. shaking her head, moira ruffles bas' hair before speaking to hana. "i promise we'll keep it as our secret, lest we ruin any potential apple bobber's future competitors," blue-eyed gaze falls to roshana's boy, features softening. "are you enjoying the festival, little man?"

the  warmth  in  her  smile  is,  for  once,  genuine  rather  than  strained.  there’s  nothing  quite  like  the  innocence  of  children,  bright    &    alight  with  excitement  over  the  mundane,  to  remind  roshana  some  good  still  existed  in  the  world.  the  way  they  found  unadulterated  joy  in  the  simplest  of  activity  was  truly  a  wonder  and  smile  only  softens  further  when  her  own  boy  squeezes  his  mother’s  hand  to  tug  them  both  closer  for  a  better  view.  ＂  it  sounds  like  we  have  a  new  apple  -  bobbing  champion  among  us.  ＂  her  gaze  shifts  from  a  dancing  basil  to  moira.  it’s  nice  to  see  her  here,  relaxed  and  laughing,  enjoying  time  with  family.  these  were  far  better  circumstances  than  being  trapped  in  the  confinements  of  st.  mungo’s  not  too  long  ago.  normal,  for  lack  of  a  better  word.  ＂  whatever  you  do,  don’t  tell  my  eldest  two.  i  watched  them  spend  hours  splashing  around  earlier.  i  thought  they’d  drown  before  they  admitted  defeat.  thankfully,  that  wasn’t  the  case,  but  i  have  a  feeling  they’ll  be  sulking  about  it  for  a  while.  ＂