OCtober #17: Doubt

Wila's full of doubt. She doubts herself, her abilities, others, what they say, how they feel about her... She wants to trust and to believe, but it's hard when everything's always gone wrong for you.

How do you come back to someone's life after so long? what do you say? how do you explain you didn't mean to leave? will he even want you back in his life? Will he even remember you, after all this time? Wicahpi, trying to write a letter to her brother...

🐱 Bangkok

📸 Chanan

🎨 Natural Mocha [Mocha Colour in Thai Cats]

Haven’t done anything Wila related in a while, so here’s my Hatchetfield oc Wila - daughter of Wiggly - as depicted in the 1800s in The Black Book (her eldritch features were unknown at this point but her birth was prophesied long ago):

This was a Victorian depiction of her because the Lords in Black had no clue how they were meant to describe 21st century clothing to the original Starry Children - when Wila eventually found this depiction she was sorely disappointed that she could not find the dress and necklace she was seen wearing.

guys I made the sturniolo triplets but papas games characters

I'm literally giddy ok bye

control by mannequin pussy more like what if i walk into the sea and never return

instead of going to bed i finished the third zombies movie and um...

*et by katy perry playing faintly in the background*

Yesterday’s Reflections

LOCATION: Diagon Alley, Wila Travers’s Flat DATE: June 25th, 1984 @wila-travers

Elliot dithered on the street for several minutes, going so far as to walk all the way up the block and back at one point on the flimsy excuse of purchasing and eating a packet of sugar-roasted chestnuts. He only made it a quarter of the way through the nuts before he chucked the whole thing in the nearest bin. He told himself he was being silly, there was no reason to be nervous like this. The worst thing that could happen would be that Travers wouldn’t know what he was talking about and he’d look like an idiot.

It wasn’t like she could report him to the Ministry just for asking questions if he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion—and even if she did, they couldn’t arrest him for curiosity. Imagine the scandal!

He stared at the crisp façade of the building, wincing slightly as the sunlight caught a large front window and turned in briefly into a blinding mirror. He almost walked away for good—but no, he had nothing to lose but a little bit of dignity and he could live with that. Elliot took a deep breath, smoothed his hair down pointlessly, and walked up the steps to ring Wila Travers’s doorbell.

Date: June 24th, 1984, an hour-ish after the blast Location: York, UK  @wila-travers​

​Ted had been deployed to the scene of the London explosion with a small group of coworkers from his department. Most days, his job wasn’t t​hat exciting. It was a lot of talking on the phone - they were the only department with a handful of telephones and, despite everything, only a couple of people within the department understood how to use them - or writing fake reports for Muggle authorities or being dispatched to towns to give excuses to random Muggles about what they saw. He worked with Obliviators often. But, mainly, it was just a lot of paperwork. Ted typically spent his days at a desk in a cubicle with his hand cramping around a quill.

But then came the other, more rare part. The fieldwork. There were times where the Statute of Secrecy was broken to a larger scale. When he and other employees of his department had to don a disguise to smooth things over. Sometimes, it was Quidditch-gone-wrong incidents. Other times, a muggleborn child at a school had let out their magic in a very serious way. Ted had a variety of disguises all equipped with magically-forged badges of every level of Muggle authority.

That was necessary today. It was a planned attack - You-Know-Who and his followers at it again - in multiple locations. Death Eaters in Liverpool, Dementors (seriously, how the fuck did that happen?) in York... and an explosion in London. He’d been prepped to assume numerous injuries and, likely, deaths. What his workplace didn’t know is that these three locations were familiar to him. The Order of the Phoenix had planned to counterattack the Death Eaters and, from the looks of it, it had all gone terribly wrong.

He was wearing Muggle clothing to fit in - part of the disguise the Ministry had given him for this particular ruse. Black trousers, a white button up shirt with a black tie. He had a badge in his pocket that stated he was MI6 and would surpass any Muggle authority that was currently already there. He held his head high when he approached a group of police with one of his co-workers also in disguise, showing his badge with a flip of his wrist. “Official word is a pipe burst,” he told them and they glanced him up and down.

“We heard terrorists... sir.” One of the bobbies said that final word with an air of sarcasm, looking Ted up and down as though he would know about these so-called ‘terrorists.’ Ted gave him a knowing, unfriendly smirk in return.

“If you have better intel than I do, please inform me,” he said, his voice level, a cool chill in the tone. “Otherwise, I think I’ll go with what I’ve discovered from the Prime Minister.” That made the bobbie pale slightly as Ted looked around the rubble, his heart dropping at the number of injured Muggles, the blood. He wondered where the Order was - Wila was leading this team now, he remembered from the final meeting. This was the hardest part - pretending he didn’t care. Pretending he did this often. Pretending he didn’t know that, somewhere, people he knew were here trying to stave off what didn’t turn out to be the attack they were expecting.

“No, Sir,” the policeman said. “I - “ Ted held up a hand to stop him from talking as his gaze caught someone familiar. Wila. Ted turned to look at his co-worker, nodding his head slightly so they could take over, and excused himself from the group, making his way as quickly as possible without looking too rushed to Wila.

“Travers,” he greeted. “Tell me what happened.”

OCtober #4: Jealousy:

❣ Three is A Crowd ❣

Wit and Jay, along with Widget, who is DEFINITELY..... NOT...... JEALOUS. 💢💢

❌✖ Not the Same ✖❌

"Why is he always so perfect? why does he always get what she wants? It's unfair, it's unfair and obviously his fault."

BASICS.

NAME. Wila Travers AGE. 26 ALUMNI HOUSE. Gryffindor BLOOD STATUS. Half-blood FACECLAIM. Davika Hoorne

HISTORY.

The Travers family has always been more interested in business than politics. This has served them well over the years, and not just in the weight of their moneybags. It’s certainly made them many friends in high places, because wealthy people who don’t stick their noses into other people’s business enough to cause offense are always popular. They’ve been half-bloods for generations, yes, but they’re so refined (and rich) that the subject hardly ever comes up. And the Traverses don’t care: they go where the money is, even if it’s muddy. This means they’re not a good match for an eldest son or only child - but a second son? A younger daughter? Oh, the Traverses were an ideal family for marrying-off pureblood spares. This left their family tree littered with connections to almost everyone who’s anyone - and all the useful business opportunities that come with those ties.

Wila always had a head for business. She doesn’t care about the gold much, but the strategy of investment and finances has fascinated her since childhood. It’s like playing chess, only not as easy. In another life, Wila could be the sort of queen who commands a vast armada spilling across the seas in wars of undaunted conquest. Here, her targets are vaults in Gringotts and the latest innovations in things like broomstick design or potioneering. Wila is always on the cutting-edge of everything, because everything - from sport to fashion to medicine - all comes back to finance in the end. Even war, in a way, although she was too astute an investor to sink her interests into something as reckless as Voldemort’s little crusade. The Traverses prefer to steer-clear of political entanglements like that - and it’s a creed that’s served them well and lined their pockets deeply over the years. Until Wila’s little sister broke that unwritten rule and paid a deadly price.

The Traverses were wealthy, but not obnoxiously so - not like some wixen families. But of course, they haven’t been passing the same fortune down a single well-pruned branch of their family tree for thirteen generations. Travers money was more diluted, spread out to a dozen distant cousins - all wealthy in their own rights - but their money was also more active than that of most wix families. Traverses didn’t rest on their laurels; they reinvested and collected the dividends and then went back for more. Most old families preferred letting theirs molder in their vaults where it did no one any good (a large part of the reason why the Traverses haven’t been purebloods in decades). But the Malfoys understood that you have to spend money to make money, making them a regular investment partner, and it was that which led her poor sister Sarai to her doom. She’d brought a new business proposal to Lucius, who’d always been too charming for anyone’s good but his own. And Sarai, loyal little Hufflepuff that she was, had also been looking for a cause. Lucius was only too happy to offer one.

At first Wila didn’t think much about it - it was just a hobby. The Death Eaters kept Sarai busy, and she seemed to be enjoying herself, so what was there to worry about? If Wila had paid more attention she might have seen the danger coming in time to save her sister - or maybe Sarai was lost the moment she put on those black robes. Because while Sarai was loyal, she was also foolhardy. Prone to leaping without looking - to making mistakes. In business you have to be willing to take a few risks and write-off the resultant losses. But no one told the Dark Lord that. Sarai did something that drew his ire, and Sarai died for her failure. Now Wila finds herself very interested in politics. Not messy things like blood-status and Ministry corruption, but the simpler and starker politics of revenge. She doesn’t give a damn about the Order of the Phoenix save that it’s her best chance to destroy Voldemort and every single Death Eater serving him. The “cause” is a meaningless distraction. All that matters to Wila is balancing the debt of her sister’s death by obliterating the evil that murdered her.

CONNECTIONS.

ELLIOT VANITY. It was surprising to see a Vanity in the Order - and even more surprising when a second joined. While Wila views Emma as idiotic and foolish with her girly ways and batting eyelashes, she can see value in Elliot. He’s brave, but in a calculated and smart sort of way. For someone with her eye always on business, he’s the best bet as an ally when it comes to the Vanity clan. ALASTOR MOODY. Of course the Auror helped start the Order - he’d always been a bit off his rocker, hadn’t he? Wila can respect him for his expertise, but that’s about it. He’s not the sort of leader she’s used to having around. The people she tends to deal with understand checks and balances - while Moody is spouting off things like Constant Vigilance as though expecting everyone should just get what he means. Surely, there’s a better leader. CARADOC DEARBORN. Now this is someone Wila can trust. She’s been a frequenter of his pub for years - a good deal of the business she’s done is negotiated over pints in a corner booth, pipe smoke in the air. Caradoc makes a better leader than Moody, in Wila’s opinion, so she’s glad he’s up in the ranks. She just hopes that this Order business doesn’t mean Caradoc will suddenly stop wanting to do real business outside of the group.

WILA IS TAKEN.

🐱 Bangkok

📸 Doug Schar [Indian Spring Cats]

🎨 Natural Mocha [Mocha Colour in Thai Cats]

we look so happy, even when we're smiling out of fear

this is what popped into my head when I was listening to tennis court

setting up a new discord what do y’all think