xgeorgetteollivanderx

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

“I’ve never heard anything described like that,” she said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “Not in books. There’s talk about channels and control and willpower. But not listening. Not the way you do.”

She tilted her head, her brow furrowing — not in confusion, but in thought, like she was turning Pandora’s words over in her hands, trying to feel where they fit.

“The way you speak about it, it’s alive to you, isn’t it? Not just a tool.” A beat. Then, softer: “That’s beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed before she could stop it. She looked down, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “Sorry. That probably does sound like rambling.” She paused. “But, honestly, I don’t understand how anyone couldn’t find this fascinating.”

There was a small, hopeful smile as if maybe — just maybe — being understood wasn’t so out of reach after all.

Pandora’s lips curled into a quiet smile, humbled by Georgette’s awe. “It’s not always that graceful,” she admitted. “Sometimes it’s like arguing with a storm. But yeah… the colors shift when something changes, two colours combining together to create something new. Not always the way I expect, but it’s how I know it’s listening.”

Her fingers brushed the air, mimicking the motion of unraveling thread. “When it fights back, it’s cold. Heavy. Like trying to pull your way through water that doesn’t want you in it.”

She glanced over, warmth in her expression. “You’re not rambling. You’re just… paying attention. Most people don’t.”

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

Georgette didn’t flinch. Not when he glanced down at his sleeve like it had been tarnished by her very being. Instead, Georgette lifted a brow with a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Basilisk sinew, was it? Of course it was.

“Basilisk sinew. Charming choice. Cold, dangerous, and destined to rot alone underground. Perfect match.” She glanced at him arching an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want that unicorn hair? It might give you something resembling a soul.”

She turned away without waiting for a response, stepping behind the counter toward a locked cabinet deliberately slow, as though resisting the urge to chuck something at his smug head. Her fingers hovered above one of the drawers -- the drawer -- but never touched it. Instead, she let her hand drift sideways, unlocking a more mundane compartment and pulling out a slender wand box.

“I’m afraid the basilisk sinew has ...temperament issues. Doesn’t take well to cold-blooded owners. Funny how that works.” The box was set on the counter with a sharp click. She didn’t offer it to him. Didn’t even look up. “This one has chimera mane. Spirited. Compensates nicely for a lack of," Georgette looked him in the eye, "warmth.”

"You never know," he muttered with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder. He wouldn’t have bothered passing judgment, people had a way of surprising him, though he rarely cared enough to be affected by it.

Severus glanced down at his sleeve where she’d brushed against him, an offense in his eyes, then slowly turned toward her. "Is your center of gravity off, or are you always that clumsy?" he asked, voice cool and dry as ever. At the mention of basilisk sinew, his attention sharpened, his head tilting slightly in interest.

"I don’t bleed for anyone," he said flatly. "I’ll take the basilisk sinew." And with that, he saw no reason to say anything more.

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

Georgette didn’t move right away. Her limbs still buzzed with the cruel aftermath of too much magic and too little time. She listened to his words and felt his touch as they apparated to the Three Broomsticks.

The din of the pub grated against her raw nerves. Laughter, clinking mugs, warmth -- wrong, all of it. The mundane was jarring. Like being thrown into a lullaby mid-interrogation. Still, she obeyed. Not because he commanded her, but because it was a test—and if she had learned anything, Evan never wasted time repeating lessons.

With a controlled inhale, Georgette sat opposite him. She didn’t slouch, didn’t let her fingers tremble. Her spine straightened inch by inch, and her face melted from tight defiance into something smooth, palatable. Pretty, even. She conjured the hint of a smirk, just crooked enough to feign amusement, just sharp enough to ward off inquiry.

“I suppose,” she murmured, reaching for the glass that had appeared in front of her as if summoned by his nod, “this is the part where I thank you for not letting me fall apart.”

Georgette lit a cigarette as that was something she naturally would have done -- and she was supposed to be natural, right? Her eyes flicked to the doorway, scanning faces, patterns, exits. Then back to him, the wizard who’d taught her how to channel her rage into something useful. Her voice dropped low, threading between them like the smoke coming from her hand. “So tell me, Evan. How many more tests are there?”

The body crumpled fully and Evan's hand wrapped firmly around her wrist— not rough, but decisive. Commanding. “That’s enough.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. It cut. Cold and final, like a slamming door. He held her gaze for a long beat, watching her face: the gleam in her eye, the twitch of her lips, the tightness in her chest as adrenaline hummed through her blood like wildfire. Too much of it, too fast.

“Now comes the hardest part,” he murmured, low and calm, like a lesson passed down in some cathedral of the damned. “Unveiling the monster that lives beneath your skin isn’t the test. Anyone can scream. The real power is hiding it, folding it up neat and silent behind your smile.” He let her go, slowly. Almost gently. Then stepped back, and in one smooth motion, turned on the spot and apparated them away.

The space around them cracked and then they were in the warm, dusky interior of The Three Broomsticks, a far cry from the stench of blood and terror. Laughter drifted from a nearby table. The scent of butterbeer and firewhiskey lingered in the air.

Evan slid into a booth like nothing had happened, nodding at the barkeep with practiced ease. Then, as his eyes fell back on Georgette, he raised a brow — and his glass — before offering his final command of the evening, quiet enough for only her to hear. “Figure out how to ease your breathing, and soften that expression. You wear that face out there,” he gestured lazily toward the rest of the pub, “and you won’t last a month.”

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

She didn't blink under his scrutiny, but the smile she wore grew crooked, amused. “Oh, Severus,” she drawled, “You wound me. As though I'd waste time peddling unicorn hair to someone with a pulse.”

She moved from behind the desk, past him brushing faintly against his sleeve -- a deliberate choice. Nothing in her shop was accidental. “But let’s humor the question, shall we?” Her tone turned almost clinical. “I have basilisk sinew -- three strands, one of which survived a duel with a cursebreaker. Infamously unstable, but very," there was a beat, "assertive. I also have chimera scale. Extracted under circumstances I won't bore you with, unless you're into screaming.”

Her fingers drummed against the edge of the counter, eyes narrowed in something close to appreciation. She leaned in, the air between them buzzing with unspoken risk. “So tell me. Are you just being dramatic, or are you actually ready to bleed for what you're asking?”

Severus didn’t flinch at the sarcasm, nor did he rush to respond. Instead, he regarded her coolly, arms folded, as though weighing just how much of her dramatics he was willing to entertain this morning. When he did speak, it was with the slow precision. “Unicorn hair?” he echoed, tone dry and unimpressed. “Please. I have standards.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to match her theatrics with something quieter, darker. “If I wanted something mediocre, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” A faint, knowing smirk ghosted at the corner of his mouth. “And while I’m flattered by the assumption that I’d require some elaborated ritual for a wand core, I assure you, I can be very persuasive without theatrics. You, of all people, should appreciate discretion.”

He arched a brow, gaze steady. “I’m looking for something… with bite. Preferably something that hasn’t been touched by Ministry hands. Do you have it, or should I go back to being insulted by your hospitality?”

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

“You speak as if your future is already stolen from you,” Georgette said, voice hushed, like she was trying to convince herself. “As if you’re a pawn to be moved across the board without say.” Even though her friend didn't have a choice.

“But if it came down to it, if you did propose marriage to someone just to avoid a worse fate, would it be so unthinkable if it was to someone who already knows your laugh better than any spell, and your anger better than any curse?” She gave a small, almost bitter smile.

“Maybe marriage between women is frowned upon in the eyes of the old blood, but let them frown. They’ve scowled at everything that breathes a little differently.” Georgette laughed. "Just imagine us," she hung her head with a small smile and a shake of the head before getting back to the subject at hand. Georgette's gaze softened as much as it would. “And as for Caellum, he’d probably let himself be turned into a frog before letting someone marry you who didn’t deserve you.”

The witch had shared the fear that an arranged betrothal brought upon her with some of her closest friends and had gotten a similar answer from all of them. She did wonder if there was anything she could do to stop her granparents from coming up with it, but failed to see a way out unless she proposed a marriage on her own-- which wasn't about to happen either way. "If marriage between women wasn't also frowned upon, as the whole point of it is to get an heir, I'd say we could get married and I wouldn't have to deal with an annoying pureblood wizard who thinks he's better than anyone else." Charity said jokingly, though she dreaded the fact she could actually end up married to someone like that. She poised the question briefly and shrugged her shoulders. "Caellum, for sure, he's my best friend-- but I wouldn't rob him from the opportunity of marrying for love if he's got that chance eventually."

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

Georgette's eyes went wide, catching every nuance in Pandora's words. She leaned in closer, breath held until she couldn’t contain herself anymore.

“That’s incredible,” she whispered, like she was afraid speaking too loudly might startle the magic itself. “You don’t just use magic -- you reshape it. Like thread into cloth, or notes into a song but with curses. That’s --” Her voice trailed off, but her hands moved trying to express what her mouth couldn’t. “It’s like alchemy for the soul.”

She tilted her head. “Do the colors ever change after you twist the magic? Like, if it started red, could it turn blue? Is that how you know it’s worked?” Her brows knit in fascination. “And when it fights back what does that feel like? Does it try to hurt you, or does it just refuse to be changed?”

Georgette caught herself, lips curling in a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m rambling again.” She glanced at Pandora, eyes shining. “You don’t just break curses. You talk to them. Like a language only you can hear.”

Pandora smiled at Georgette’s rapid-fire questions, her expression fond rather than annoyed. She wasn’t tired of her, not even close. It was rare that someone showed this much interest without fear.

“You’re right, it is a little scary,” she admitted, her voice soft. “Cursed objects are more dangerous when they’re disguised as something ordinary. People lower their guard. It’s clever, in a cruel way.” She leaned back slightly, thoughtful. “When I look at a curse, I see it in color, sometimes reds or greens, other times dull, broken shades. Magic always has a color, a kind of… signature. Cursed magic feels wrong. It hums in a way that makes my skin crawl.”

Pandora hesitated before continuing. “When I say I make something new… I mean I can take those threads of magic and twist them, change the shape, the pattern, the intent. If I do it right, I can turn something meant to harm into something that protects, or even heals. But not all magic wants to be changed. Some of it fights back.”

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

She snatched the book from the other’s hand with an exasperated huff. Dust swirled around her boots like smoke from her cigarettes. “I’m fine, it’s just that this one’s rare. Bound in shadowbark. Breathes if you leave it open too long,” she muttered, flipping the book briefly before snapping it shut. “And this one? Not a fan of ancient grimoires hitting the floor, thanks.”

Georgette sighed, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. After a pause, she glanced at her — eyes gleaming faintly amber. “You always throw around cursed tomes or am I just the lucky one today?”

Alara stumbled back a step, startled, but she recovered quickly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Alright, no need to yell,” she said flatly, eyes narrowing slightly as she crouched to pick up the scattered books. “It was an accident.”

She collected one of the fallen novels and handed it over without looking too bothered. “You good?”

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

“Oh, I do love when someone barges in and critiques my reading habits. Such charming manners.” She snapped the book closed with a dusty thump and placed it beneath the counter.

She rose from her chair with the kind of theatrical slowness. “Now,” she said, voice silk-wrapped sarcasm, “if you’ve managed to put your disdain on hold long enough to actually request something, let’s hear it. What rare, inconvenient, possibly illegal wand core are you in the market for today, Master Severus? Basilisk scale? Or -- and do stop me if I’m wrong -- perhaps something absurdly obscure that’ll require a blood pact and a midnight duel to procure?” She leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “Because if it’s unicorn hair, I might scream.”

Severus was immediately irritated by the witch’s tone , a stark reminder of why he preferred the solitude of his home or the quiet order of his shop, far from the reach of the ill-mannered. Still, he reminded himself of the purpose of his visit and chose to overlook her attitude.

His eyes flicked down to the book she had been reading. "If I’ve interrupted a pivotal literary moment, by all means, do enlighten me," he drawled, though his tone made it clear he hoped she wouldn’t. "That aside, given your expertise in wands and their cores, I’m in need of a specific material. I’m hoping you might be able to supply it."

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

Her eyes narrowed in faux suspicion. “Are you sure you got them all? I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night thinking I’ve been cursed by a vengeful hedgehog.”

She hopped off the hospital bed with the grace of someone who had absolutely no idea how to land on both feet properly. "And life outside of work? Sounds dangerous. Who told you that? A pamphlet in the waiting room?'"

She gave him a crooked smirk. "Nope, nothing else. Hopefully I won't see you anytime soon."

[ END ]

"I can imagine. It seems like a very delicate and important job, but you can't do a good job if your hands begin to look like porcupines," he grinned as he turned over her hand once more for a final inspection to make sure he got rid of them all. The question thrown back at him wasn't unexpected, but he still treated it with contempt. "Yes, but someone told me recently that there is life outside of work. Never considered that." Beck dropped her hand once it looked good and gave her a smile. "Oh, I remember. I don't think we need to get philosophical. It's too early. Anything else you need looked at?"

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

The witch didn't turn immediately. Her wand lingered in the air, trembling slightly, though whether from the exertion of sustained cruelty or the pleasure it gave her, even she couldn't tell anymore. The muggleborn lay crumpled at her feet, his shallow, ragged breaths the only proof he was still alive.

She finally turned, slowly, deliberately. Blood had spattered on her cheek like war paint, and her eyes shimmered -- not with tears, but with power. Magic still crackled at her fingertips, desperate to be unleashed again. Her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile.

"Alive," she whispered, voice thick like honey. "More than I’ve ever felt in years."

She took a step toward Evan, dragging the wand behind her like it was an extension of her will. "All I did was listen." Her smile widened, showing just a glimpse of something unhinged beneath the surface, "to him scream. To the magic hum. To myself, finally waking up."

She looked past him for a moment, into the shadows where the house bent into darkness. Then her gaze snapped back to Evan, sharp as a dagger drawn mid-laugh.

"So -- did I pass or shall we fetch another for round two?" There was a beat. Then she added, softly, intimately, "Because I think I’ve developed a taste for it."

The wizard had stepped out to give her room to connect with her inner strength and whether she made it or not, would determine if he'd allow her into their ranks or not. He was patient, just enough, before he decided it was time to see the work in progress. Evan stepped back into the house, quietly, intending to go unnoticed. His glance instantly drawn to the witch pointing her wand at the muggleborn, malice on her gaze and pleasure written all over her face. Success.

He let her go on, torture the man unconscious before clapping slowly, proud smirk coloring his features. "Look at you, that's what I'd call hot." The death eater complimented her, eyes keen on her. "How are you feeling, darling?"

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

Georgette didn’t answer right away. Her gaze fell to the man bleeding on the floor -- glassy-eyed, barely holding on -- then back to Evan, unfazed by the amused malice behind his grin and the laughter from his belly. She took it to mean she had done well. At least slightly so. Unless he was laughing at her skill but there was nothing laughable there. He spoke and she nodded her head in understanding. She wondered what she would do but knew she would figure it out. She always did. It's the way she got through life.

The door clicked shut behind Evan. Georgette waited. She stood perfectly still, letting the silence stretch -- not for the man’s benefit, but for her own. There was a power in pause. Most people overlooked it. They rushed to the violence but Georgette had learned early that fear created the best silence.

Her eyes stayed on the man slumped against the wall. A mess of blood and sweat dripped down his brow, his eyes watching her, tracking her steps as she moved toward him. Georgette studied him like one might study a book, flipping through pages with careful hands.

Quietly she said, “Tell me who you spoke to. You can give me a name with a tongue or without it. It’s entirely your choice.”

His shoulders trembled -- pathetic -- and a sob slipped through clenched teeth. “P-Perrin,” he rasped. “It was Perrin. I met him outside The White Heart pub.” Georgette laughed. "That's all I needed," she replied.

For a moment, Georgette considered the matter over with and she had nothing more to do with the muggle. A sliver of mercy perhaps. No, she thought. Crucio!

She hadn't noticed if Evan had come back. She was having too much fun.

Even as prospects acted all tought and determined, what he enjoyed most was how he could always tell just how nervous or scared they were. Evan had become a master at reading people, a tool he'd found the most useful in both his career path and side job. It was this trait alongside his wicked ways which allowed him to excel at the task at hand, assess whether someone was ready to join their lines or not.

He could tell the witch was trying a bit too hard, perhaps because she wasn't entirely comfortable with what she was aked to do or maybe simply an attempt to conceal the excitement coursing through her veins. Only time would tell. He watched carefully as she performed the spells, a pleased smile settling on his lips with each bang of the muggleborn's head against the wall. He could almost taste the blood as it dripped from his face, a breathy laughter echoing through the empty room. Keen eyes focused on the brunette, the squirming body forgotten as he tried to take in even the slightest twitch of muscle in the girl's instead.

"Ah dear, wrong question. Would you like some more?" The wizard asked with a brow raised, the corners of his lips twisting upwards almost diabolically. "But if you're asking if I'm done with your evaluation, I think I might need you to do one more thing." A pause, letting anticipation drill in. "I want to know who he last talked to before being caught, think you can get that for me? I will step outside and let you perform, surprise me by just how quick you can manage, I don't care how."

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

“Something different. Something better.” That thought rang through Georgette’s mind. There was something different. Was it better? That was an odd question to ask herself. Becoming a Death Eater was draining but she knew it would come with perks once she was properly vetted. It wasn't the first thing Georgette had kept secret. The story of her parents and being dropped off like a sack of potatoes at Garrick's door was never to be known. The fact that she could create wands was under lock and key. Now this. Another large secret. Though this one would come into the light eventually, even if only to other Death Eaters. Hell, Rabastan, Bellatrix and Evan already knew. It was only a matter of time before there were more. As much as she wanted to talk about it she wouldn't. She was good at not telling.

"I hope for your sake they don't find anyone. It gives me shivers just thinking about you being betrothed to some asshat that you have to be married to for life," her body shuddered. "I don't blame you for not wanting marriage. I'm with you. If there's anything I can do to help in that department just give me a call and I'll be there," she said sternly. "Is there anyone you wouldn't mind being set up with?"

Their dynamic might seem a bit off to strangers looking into them, sometimes they just shared a full meal with barely anything spoken in between, other times they managed to even laugh as they discussed the most fantastic of topics, an awkwardness ever present that made it all the more fun. For Charity it had always made sense, nothing was ever forced and they could always go along with the mood, wherever that may take them.

"You know I only ever say what's true, not to your liking, but there's something." She told the other, her expression unaltered as she stared at her. "Something different, something better." A small smile flashed through her lips and faded away just as soon as it came. The topic changing and turning into something that made her features contort in a mix of annoyance and disgust. "I hear they're looking for someone, hopefully they never find him." The blonde joked nonchalantly, though she was being quite honest about her thoughts on the matter. "I'd much rather stay single and unbothered, enjoy the freedom I so cherish. I've no idea what the plans actually are, but marriage is so far off from my expectations that I don't think I'll manage."

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

emma mackey via chloé

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

Evan was watching her every move. Georgette could feel it. And it was only right. He would be giving his opinion on her so he needed to pay attention. But she wondered what was going through his mind. Was she faring well? Was he bored? Was he intrigued? Did he want this to be over so he could get on with other things? Did he even have any opinions yet? Only time would tell. She needed to be patient -- something she wasn't good at but she had to try her best.

When he opened the door and she saw the muggleborn tied to the chair she was caught off guard at the sight. They were terrified. But they were also unclean. She didn't allow her face to falter but she had to move.

Georgette moved closer to the muggleborn. A man. middle-aged. Raggedy clothes. Dirt all over himself. He was disgusting. He was a pig that got caught eating out of a trough. Georgette pulled out her wand. "Imperio!" she said firmly and with confidence. Suddenly any light that was in the man's eyes was gone. His body had gone limp. His head fell to the side. Now. What to do with him?

Without any words, Georgette got the man to stand up, still lifeless. He walked straight to the brick wall and began banging his head against it. He did so with great speed and intensity. Blood began seeping from his wounds. Finally Georgette put up her hands and he stopped, standing there just staring at the wall as though awaiting instructions and not noticing the blood falling into his eyes.

Georgette saw a wand sitting on a table. It must have been the man's. She went to pick it up. She handed it to the man who was still awaiting a command. That's when she gave it -- again in silence. He turned the wand toward himself and screamed out "Crucio!" The smile on Georgette's face as he writhed was sharp. She stopped him, his wand hitting the floor where she picked it up. She put her wand down. As she did the muggleborn's body fell limp to the ground still twitching.

She looked over at Evan. "Would you like some more?"

A task he most definitely enjoyed, it allowed him the chance to play with the prospects' minds. Some were wicked enough, welcome with open arms as they were all too eager to join their ranks. Those he pushed to the limit, an attempt to make sure they wouldn't fail even through their commitment, weakness would not be tolerated. Some were lacking, and those he simply liked to torment, wouldn't waste his time in just sending them away for they did not meet the requirements, something had to be gained either way to make it worth his while.

The witch in front of him was a putting up a strong face, the words that came from her lips fascinating as they kept his decision still at bay, nothing settled yet. But it wasn't enough, so he pushed with a dangerous grin, eyes sparkling with determination and something more-- pleasure. Pain was ever rewarding and he was about to watch her inflict it. "Prove it." He told her simply, pushing the door open for her, a muggleborn tied in a chair inside, eyes pleading as they hovered over them. "I'll judge your talents when I see them, dear. He'll be obliviatedafterwards, worry not."

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

Georgette was taking her break from the shop and decided to go to the bakery to treat herself. She rubbed the coins in her pocket together, hearing them slide back and forth. She didn’t have much but it was enough for something sweet and maybe even a hot chocolate. She would have to see. But first she thought she would take a quick detour to Flourish and Blott’s to see if they had anything interesting come in. They usually didn’t.

Before she knew it she was run into. Literally. Books went flying. Georgette was livid. “What the fuck?” she exclaimed, raising her arms in the air.

where: diagon alley who: open Alara hadn’t meant to rush,technically, she had the afternoon off,but a part of her always felt better staying close to the bakery, anchored by the comfort of familiar places. She was just stepping out of Flourish and Blotts, a stack of books in her arms, when she collided with someone heading in. “Sorry about that,” she said quickly, steadying herself. It took her a second before she looked up to see who it was.

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

“You’re welcome,” Georgette choked out almost regretting giving the compliment in the first place. It was awkward. She was awkward. Oh well. Too late. The damage had already been done. “Brighter than usual, huh?” she snorted and shook her head. Georgette didn’t want to be called bright. She wasn’t bright. She was dark — especially in her present condition. Charity had to have been pulling her leg. “I think you need to get your eyes checked.”

Georgette bobbed her head. “Everything is good,” she said vaguely. “I’m not one to complain about anything being boring or not. Boring gives me the chance to read. Although I guess that’s not boring.”

The witch threw her head back. “A betrothal? You finally got sucked into that? That’s awful. Do you know if it’s at least anyone not too terrible?” Georgette took in a deep sigh. “I would die if I had to do the betrothal thing. Being single is the best way to go. That way you have control over your life. You don’t have to worry about someone else and making them happy and being forced to have kids and blah blah blah. Just awful. I’m sorry, Char.”

If it was any indication that she actually enjoyed spending time with the other witch, they saw each other often enough for people who weren't all for the social engangement. They wouldn't be friends if they had met recently, not likely to share enough with the other to develop an actual friendship, but luckily for them both they'd met at Hogwarts and formed a close bond back then.

"Why, thank you." The blonde said, playing with a loose strand of hair as she gave Georgette a good look. "You look brighter than usual." She offered, a chuckle following as she began tapping her fingers casually on the table. "Can't say if that's a bad thing or a good one, though. You're hard to read sometimes, it's amazing." Charity decided with a nod of her head, raising a brow as the brunette shared the details of her whereabouts lately. "Pretty boring? I don't think that's accurate, you must be having some fun, even if you're not sharing. It's alright, as long as you're having it. Me, on the other hand, nothing all too fun to share, rather dreary but certainly interesting." A scoff rolled off her tongue, shrugging her shoulders before letting her friend know the rest of it. "A betrothal is most definitely being thrown my way, I'm avoiding it."

[xgeorgetteollivanderx]

"I suppose you make a point. It would be easier to curse someone using a mundane object than something rare. I never really thought about it. Kind of scary to think about it, honestly. What exactly do you do with it? How are you not affected by it? What do you mean you make something new? Something good, bad?" Georgette was so incredibly curious. She couldn't stop asking questions. Pandora was surely getting tired of her.

While she was perfectly happy being a wandmaker, Georgette was finding herself a bit jealous that Pandora could see the curses. It was stupid because Georgette could see magic when creating wands but she couldn't share that with Pandora. She couldn't share it with anyone. However, she was bursting at the seams to tell her that she knew what it was like to see magic just a different type but she kept her lips shut.

"I can't imagine seeing curses," she put the emphasis on the last word. "Did you hurt yourself much as a kid since you didn't know what it was? Because you didn't know what it was, I mean, right?" Again with the questions.

"I will keep that in mind." Pandora was not one that made friends easy, not many could understand what she did, or what she saw, and given the rumours that floated around her, it might not be good to be associated to someone like her.

"Would that not be the point of the curse? Some wish to inflict in with it not even being a thought that it might be." Not that she was one out there placing these curses, she tried to dull them down, never fully remove them. There were cursebreakers did that. Pandora liked to tamper with the magic, which at times could backfire on her. It was a risk she was willing to take.

"I don't know how to explain it. I've seen it my whole life. It's like a weave of tapestry, that is how I see it and then I can move the threads around. It might not be successful at times, but when it is, I make something new." A smile forms on her lips, a genuine one, when Georgette seems interested in what she's saying, a blush tinting her cheeks. "One needs to be open to the possibilities, and then everything else around you becomes much clearer."