☆ @Wyatt Starkey ☆

Earl had always been right at home in clothing stores and today was no different, even though the clothing in question was...rather peculiar. He'd walked in through the dusty glass doors a few minutes, before, his newly bought wand in the pocket of the gray jean jacket, a goofy grin lighting his face. "Oh wow," he'd breathed, wide gray eyes taking in the store full of magical clothing. Silvery light was filtering through the windows, mixing with the delicate glow coming from lamps hung all over the tiny room, painting the clothing in gold and gray.

"Student?" someone demanded, from behind a crate stuffed full of scarves and hates. Earl raised himself on his tip toes, trying to see over the said crate and failing rather spectacularly. If he were serious about the endeavor, he would have needed a stool. "Yup," he chirped with an excited smile. "Can you please help me? I think I need three black robe-"

"I know what you need, child," the voice, a harsh broken voice which sounded like it belonged to a smoker said, as its owner slowly rose from behind the crate. A short, skinny man wearing a sharp plum suit, thinning hair hidden by a cyan bandanna which created an admittedly unpleasant effect. His lips had been dragged down by the weight of a wooden pipe, silvery smoke that smelled sharply of mint and chocolate slowly wafting from the top. Ontop of the overall scrawniness, he was the proud owner of the most horrifyingly yellow eyes, and nails long enough they looked like claws.

"I LOVE your suit so much!!!" Earl beamed, pulling out his list of clothing supplies. "Do you think you could help me fin-"

"The student's section is at the back of the store. Now close the god damn door, were you raised in a cave?" Flushing a bright pink, Earl stepped out of the doorway, letting the huge glass thing close behind him. "Sorry, sorry. No, not a cave. More like the barn, really, there aren't very many people in Bran, it's all fields and cows."

Going over to the back of the store, Earl started picking out the clothes carefully. He'd found a dusty, spiderweb covered mirror and after a few minutes work with a handkerchief (his father had drilled it in him that a gentleman always carried a handkerchief around. And spoke French, apparently. So Earl had been forced to do both.), the mirror had been propped up against a shoebox. Three hours later, he was still in the store.

The store employee (who was apparently a werewolf with a crippling chocolate frog addiction) had warmed up to him after the first two hours, and was now sitting beside the freshly cleaned mirror with a cup of tea and chatting amicably with Earl.

Which was why neither of them heard the bell at the entrance ringing. Whoever it was that came in had caught them in a fit of giggles, the small pink fluff leaning against the wall to keep from laughing as Mr. Payton was chasing a chocolate frog around the store on all fours.

Word Count: 526

Miles Parker

_{Currently Wearing:
Outfit | Shoes}

Everything in Diagon Alley was magical. Like… magical meaning cool, y’know? But sure, it was also magical meaning actual magic too, but that was the whole point. Diagon Alley was cartoonishly magical. It was like, with everything they did, they thought, “how do we make this so people understand that they’re in the Wizarding World,” and then they did that. Miles wasn’t complaining, though. He was a fan of the medieval aesthetic the place seemed to be going for. Besides, he was only focused on one thing, and he had been for a while.

The uniforms at Ilvermorny were… fine. Simple, but fine. They were like any private school uniform that Miles had seen, but he heard from a few friends that Hogwarts had a different thing. Different… robes? Like… medieval… robes? It seemed that was the Wizarding World’s preferred aesthetic, but hey, if it was done right, there was nothing to complain about! Miles needed to see for himself, so he was searching for Madam Malkin’s while his dad waited out in the Leaky Cauldron. Soon enough, Miles reached the clothing shop.

As he opened the door, a little bell rang. Miles always liked it when bells rang at entrance doors. It always felt so nice and childish in a way. Looking around, the first thing that caught Miles’s eye was a bright yellow dress. Yellow was his second favorite color (right behind sky blue of course), so of course it was first to be noticed. Yellow just seemed to be a loud, bright, bold color, and Miles felt that fit him best. Something louder than the yellow, though, was the joyous laughter coming from the back of the nice, little store.

A few chocolate frogs danced around the shop, and one came close to Miles. He decided he wasn’t in the mood for a chocolate frog at the moment, and let it hop out of the open door. That reminded Miles to close the door… he wasn’t sure he wanted to see the wrath of 100 loose chocolate frogs who are out to avenge their fallen brothers. He walked back to the door, and closed it, cringing as he thought of the epic battle between man and chocolate frog. From there, he made his way to the back of the store, the source of the laughter.

A rather cute boy with bright pink hair and a man in a funky looking suit and a pipe hanging from his lips. Miles was more focused on the younger of the two people before him. His grey jean jacket brought out his light grey eyes, was the first thing Miles really observed. His hair seemed almost deliberately unkempt, but in a cute way, Miles noted. He couldn’t stifle the fond smile that reached his lips and softened his eyes, but he didn’t want to, anyway. He let it fade before announcing his presence, he didn’t want to come off as creepy…

Looking down at the sharp-dressed employee, who seemed to be trying to wrangle a bunch of chocolate frogs. “One of the frogs escaped through the front door.” The man grunted, seeming to be incredibly irritated that his fun had been spoiled by a real runaway. “Bugger… You kids never close the damn door in time.” He bumped Miles’s shoulder on the way out to search for the frog Miles assumed, to which Miles mumbled, “rude.” As soon as the guy was gone, Miles looked at the pink-haired boy. “He seems fun. I’m Miles Parker.” He grinned with his hands in his pockets.

_{@Earl Gray}

☆ @Wyatt Strakey ☆

Abilities

Metamorphmagus

Reducio

It took an embarrassingly long time for Earl to notice the person, and even longer for him to process. Crinkles from smiling so much had shown up at the corners of his eyes, and he was holding on to his stomach; it had started to hurt after the uninterrupted giggles. His robes were neatly tucked away in his newly purchased cauldron; he’d changed back in his regular clothes. It had been a relief to get out of the dreadful looking material, which clashed with his skin and hair in the most horrifying way.

And boy, was he glad for having the presence of mind to do so. Because now, he was staring up in the eyes of easily the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Tattoos drawn in sharpie crawled up their skin, disappearing under their sleeves and the hem of their shirt. Rather dreadful posture, with their shoulders hunched in and hazel eyes Earl wouldn’t have minded getting lost in. “Oh uhm yeah, hi,” he sputtered shaking invisible dust off his clothes, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands. “I’m Gray. I mean…I’m Early. I’m…gosh, sorry. I’m Earl Gray. Hi.” Pink lit his freckles cheeks as he took the perso-…boy. The boy, in. “Uhm, sorry, just so I don’t make a complete fool of myself right off the bat. I use he/him pronouns. You?”

Finally, he decided to copy the boy and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, only to remember it was a jacket from the women’s section, and therefore didn’t HAVE any pockets. A helpless sigh later, he just clasped them behind his back, painfully awkward as he usually was when confronted with someone as lovely as this. “Sorry, you’re just beautiful, and I don’t know what to do with that,” he admitted, not seeing the issue with his confession. Like father, like son. And he’d lived the entirety of his life with Mr. Gray and his blurted out spouts of honesty, Earl had taken after him, not noticing the weird looks thrown in his direction.

Unlike his father, however, Earl seemed to lack the dignified elegance with which Mr. Gray went on and about. Instead, he was leaning against his caldron and trying to-

Before Miles could get a word in, the older man returned. The store was notably chocolate frog free, and he seemed to be in a hurry to get them out. Without giving any sort of explanation regarding as to why, he ushered Earl towards the door and then turned towards Miles.

“Alright kids, I have work to do. Earl, you have everything you need. What can I get you, young lady?”

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, at least from where Earl as standing, gray eyes going wide. It wasn’t that Miles didn’t pass. He seemed to be stuck on the very middle of both genders, appearing mask and fem at the same time. There was something in the shape of his face, the delicate hands and posture.

He remained frozen by the door, watching the interaction and having gone unusually, eerily quiet, biting the inside of his cheek. The boy's first impulse had been to move between Miles and the man, as if he could shield his newfound friend from the words. But the words were already out, and there was nothing he could do but watch. Back in Bran there weren't many trans folk, but the wonder of technology had him chatting with people from all over the world. A few of his close friends were trans, and he knew from helping them deal with dysphoria and transphobic remarks, how devastating the interaction would be.

Stats

Stamina: 5| Evasion: 0 | Strength: 0 | Wisdom: 5 | Arcane Power: 10 | Accuracy: 10

Word Count: 615