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Josephine Cadwgan

Magisch Verbond
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Josephine Cadwgan last won the day on July 14 2019

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About Josephine Cadwgan

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    I reject your reality and substitute my own <3

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  1. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    It would surprise Josie somewhat that in this conversation, Christa found her the person most deserving of pity. Whenever she had heard a breath of what Christa did for a living these days, the consensus had been that she was the one in trouble. Most people had been only too ready to laugh, joke or ridicule, or make snarky comments. Others had wanted to help, or had thought that someone else, someone with nothing better to do, perhaps could offer some help. That was what happened, right? When you fell? The best you could hope for still after that was pity. Josephine hadn’t made any jokes, and she’d stayed just a little bit in touch, but she had pitied. And she’d thought now they were both fallen, they’d have that in common. But did Christa have it better? She did not find that wholly implausible. She blushed more deeply, laughed it off. “Oh… really? You don’t mind questions? Not that I have a great many…” That I would possibly dare ask. But then apparently, she wouldn’t have to. “Oh, eh… Should I be?”
  2. [1839] Some things will be lost forever

    Rhiannon zag er niet uit alsof het een genoegen was. Ze was bleek, ze was niet zo beheerst als normaal - of goed, als de vorige keer - en ze maakte haar zinnen niet af. Ze zag eruit zoals Josephine zich in deze confrontaties meestal voelde. Ze zou dapper zijn en het verstoppen, maar ze wilde ergens anders zijn, met Owen. Owen, die ze van plan was geweest te gaan halen toen ze had gehoord dat Rhiann er was, die zou dat wel willen maar hij had lekker liggen slapen en dat was ten eerste heel prettig en ten tweede een heel goed excuus. Iedere moeder zou immers begrijpen dat je een slapend kind evenmin wakker maakt als een slapende draak. Met andere woorden: niet, als je een andere keuze ter beschikking hebt. Dus voorlopig waren ze louter met hen twee. Josephine liet thee verzorgen, dat zou ze toch wel hebben gedaan maar ook vanwege Rhiann’s uiterlijk, en ze kwam zitten zoals haar geboden was. Ze was nog steeds gehoorzaam, al viel het haar tegenwoordig op. “Ik heb het artikel al gezien,” zei ze rustig, terwijl ze haar handen om het kopje vouwde. “Een vriendin had het opgestuurd.” Trut, ongetwijfeld om zich lekker te verkneukelen. Nou, het kon Josie een worst wezen. “Keane wilde altijd al graag naar Frankrijk.” Zoiets had hij haar een keer gezegd, heel los natuurlijk, ze had het nooit in deze context geplaatst, had gedacht dat hij het over Aubigny had, het landgoed van haar vader. Ha. “Maar ik heb niets van Keane zelf gehoord, dus ik ben bang dat het voor mij, met de kleine, nog niet mogelijk zal zijn om hem daar te komen vergezellen.” Rhiann zou wel weer een preek over kinderen en vaders voor haar klaar hebben, die hoopte ze zo uit de weg te kunnen gaan. En als Keane schreef... wel... dan verzon ze wel een ander excuus. Ze geloofde niet dat hij dat zou doen. Wat kon het hem schelen? Hij had hen altijd willen verlaten en het was eindelijk gelukt. Soit. Hij zou haar hoogstens schrijven omdat hij wilde weten hoe je om eten vroeg in het Frans.
  3. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    “Tuesday is good for me,” Josephine nodded with a small smile. Tuesday was fine. It was market day and the Rose had a planned meet, but she’d ceased to attend those meetings quite some time ago now. Markets, she went to only for Owen’s sake, he loved to look around, try everything, ogle the many flowers - she was not too happy about that, it reminded her of his dad, even though that had been the one hobby of his she’d liked about him, that and the music. But she just didn’t like him very much right now at all. And Owen would, she was sure, be fine for the change of pace and to meet up with Adrian instead. The market would be around again and again. She shot a glare at the person shushing them in another booth, one you might have been surprised to see from her usually so gentle features, but it was a man again and she wasn’t having it right now. Nothing from that gender, please. Well. She’d allow their waiter to bring them both another drink. She smiled more sincerely at Christa’s kind words. Important. She had certainly never felt that way. No one would ever have said something like that to her at all. She was sweet, she was beautiful. But never important. And she’d never minded. She liked the backdrop. But now she hoped christa was right. That she could be meaningful in this way. Because she couldn’t accept an alternative. “You do? Enjoy it,” she asked, with a laugh. “Sorry, I - I don’t really know all that much about it.” Understatement of the year. She lowered her voice and continued with another giggle. “You get women, too?”
  4. Het leek alsof Rhiannon het niet zozeer over haar kleinzoon wilde hebben als eerder over haar zoon, een onaangename constatering voor Josephine. Ze was een trotse moeder, een liefhebbende moeder en ze kon altijd wel haar best doen om beleefd en enthousiast en gepast over haar zoon te kletsen. Haar best, omdat alles haar momenteel moeite kostte, maar haar jongen was haar leven. Was meer dan haar leven. Haar leven maakte haar momenteel niet gelukkig, haar zoon wel. Hij was meer dan haar bestaan. Keane... ze ging het niet zo prettig vinden te praten over Keane. “Waarom zou ik een andere mening zijn toegedaan?” vroeg ze mild, al voelde ze zich niet per se zo. “Keane heeft besloten in Cadwgan Castle te blijven... hij voelde zich niet in staat om momenteel voor Owen te zorgen... dus de omstandigheden zijn er even niet naar, misschien, maar we zoeken hem op, Owen en ik.” Omdat ze daar niet onderuit kon komen. “En kronkels in een huwelijk... hij was onderweg naar Frankrijk om een vader te kunnen zijn voor zijn andere kind? Binnen zijn andere huwelijk. Met kronkels erin. Mensen kunnen niet op twee plekken tegelijk zijn... of in twee huwelijken. Dacht ik althans altijd.”
  5. “Oma,” nam Owen tevreden voor lief aan – met het stuk cake in zijn bezit zou hij over de meeste dingen wel tevreden zijn. Hij ging tevreden knabbelend zitten, spelend met de delfstofferknuffel die Josephine maar gauw voor hem Sommeerde, omdat Owen het altijd leuk vond om daar halfhartig mee te kunnen spelen terwijl hij eigenlijk met iets anders bezig was. Zo ook nu. Eigenlijk was de input van cake en oma meer dan voldoende, maar af en toe toch nog de knuffel kunnen verplaatsen hield hem op de een of andere manier geamuseerd. Ze vroeg zich af waarom dat was. Was het om de stiltes te kunnen overbruggen die hij in een conversatie tussen volwassenen, tussen zijn ouders, had geleerd te verwachten? Of was ze nu gewoon veel en veel te pessimistisch? “Natuurlijk, heel trots,” beaamde ze mechanisch. “Hij is van oktober 1837.” Keane zou z’n verjaardag wel missen. Had z’n geboorte ook gemist, dus wat maakte het in vredesnaam uit? “Ik heb wel wat foto’s, als u dat graag zou willen…” Ze Sommeerde een keurig bijgehouden albumpje, gaf dat aan Rhiann, liet haar er doorheen bladeren op haar eigen tempo. “Maar hij leert alles heel keurig op tempo, hoor. Vindt ook alles leuk, behalve regen.”
  6. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    “Next week sounds perfect,” Josephine admitted with a broad smile. “You name the day – my life isn’t exactly busy right now in any case.” What with all of the exclusion from her normal social circle, her husband away with his grandfather and herself having mainly a source of interaction in her two year old son. She listened to Christa’s relating of her adventures with Dawson with some form of shock and awe, though and she was aware of a slight blush creeping along her facial features. She was glad that the next thing Christa said was something she could more than heartily agree with. “Exactly,” she nodded, and drained another glass, immediately picking up another. “They’re all so spoiled. Just because things are hanging off their bottom part, they think they’re the greatest thing in the world.” Oh God. Had she really just said that? Just because everyone had always told them how important they were, how special… How much they deserved their mommies taking care of them and after that their wives. Well, they weren’t anything special, the only thing impressive about them was that they were all committed to the same utter delusion. “I hope Owen turns out better,” she continued, more honest than actually she’d wanted to be, because she was so afraid of this, that he’d turn out like his dad, that he’d do the things she hated his father for to a girl who’d hate him in turn. “I wish…” There was a way to guarantee that. But there were no guarantees in this life. She took another long draught. “But anyway, you must have tons of instances like that. Weird expectations and things.” What wouldn’t they dare to ask a girl like Christa? Someone who was what she was? “Right?” What wouldn't she dare to ask?
  7. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    “Oh, at this little place on Rowanoake Street,” Josephine said with a smile. “There’s this old man there and his son, and they make the most beautiful things. Quite a family business and they have an eye for detail.” She liked the place because they always had tea, and time for a chat, and she had sometimes thought the son fancied her a little. Not in any remarkable way, she’d never been that kind of girl, but she’d enjoyed the flattery. Even if, these days, she’d realised, half and half realised in any case, that the flattery was the only thing she’d really liked about it. Probably not the guy. “I’d be happy to show you there sometime, whenever you’d like? And we could get the kids together after?” She didn’t mind taking Christa to Rowanoake. In another time perhaps she would have, but the guys had never reacted oddly to her being there yet in any case. She frowned. “Dawson! Oh, I think I remember him from some charity cause for the museum renovation… Leaky roof or something like that…” She ran a hand through her hair. “Wasn’t he the one whom his classmates at university used to always make fun of for something… gosh, what was it. There was this story about a mummy… I think he wrote his thesis on a possible new discovery of a magic mummy? Then after a couple years, they found out the whole thing had been a hoax, some students on a drunken night… now, every time they want to get to him, they put this little mummy doll out.” She rolled her eyes. “Museum curator humor, I’m afraid that wouldn’t get you far. An affair would be better, but I’m not sure he has the mettle for that.” She laughed at Christa. “Couldn’t imagine you need to take his insults into account, though. He’s dreary enough. Mm, how’d you meet the fellow? Through work?” Oh, god, how was she going to ask the question that was increasingly more on her mind? She was going to drink more and wait until it popped out by accident.
  8. Natuurlijk had ze wat in huis. Ze was een huismoeder, ze had altijd wat in huis en ze kon Rhiannon zonder enig probleem voorzien van een kop thee met alle trimmings – citroen, melk, suiker naar eigen inzicht toe te voegen in een handig bordje dat ze allemaal bood – en een dikke plak walnotentaart, die ochtend vers door de huiself gebakken. Dit was het stuk van haar leven wat ze altijd had gedaan, wat ze voor haar ouders had gedaan en daarna voor Keane. Hier was ze goed in. “Geniet ervan,” glimlachte ze, terwijl ze weer ging zitten en haar rok rechttrok. “Wat aardig dat u het zegt.” Ze geloofde er niets van. Keane had haar doorgaans behandeld als een voetveeg en zou niemand anders in zijn buurt ooit een eer hebben gevonden. Owain vond haar net voldoende. De forse geldsom maakte de dreuzelouders bijna goed. Een eer was dit niet, maar dat kon haar niet schelen. Ah, ze wou Owen ontmoeten. Goed hoor. Hij zat in de hoek, dit zou toch eigenlijk al wel als ontmoeten gelden? “Ja, hoor,” zei ze met een vage glimlach, want ze vroeg zich af wat Rhiann zich hierbij voorstelde – dat ze al een knix zou moeten maken in ruil voor een buiging? “Owen, liefje, kom eens hier? Kun je je oma ontmoeten.” Owen had even tweestrijd. Oma, of zijn delfstoffer knuffel. “En er is cake.” Einde tweestrijd, het jochie trippelde hun kant op vol enthousiasme. Josephine lachte wat ongemakkelijk. “Zoon van z’n vader, he.” Keane was ook altijd met die stomme aardbeientaartjes bezig. Ze nam de jongen op schoot, gaf hem ook een stukje cake. Owen was een snugger kindje al, sociaal, maakte zonder gene oogcontact met deze nieuwe dame. “Zeg maar hallo.” “Hallo!”
  9. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    “Oh, he’s the cutest little thing.” She admired the picture, yet caught on to Christa’s little mistake in any case. It was surprising, she was not usually quick to spot those kinds of things. Most everything with Keane had always gone over her head. Such as the other wife, you know. The other baby. Would this be Christa’s child? He seemed about the age that would fit with her friend having dropped out of school… yes, he was close to Owens age, a bit older. But Christa wasn’t saying it and she didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. Tonight, they both got to enjoy being what they wanted to be. Reality didn’t need to bother either of them right now. “I have a recent picture of Owen, too, here…” She showed her friend her necklace, a locket which kept updating her favorite pictures of her son. “Would you like one of these for your Adrian pictures as well? I can have one made…” She had the money anyway. She’d like to spend it on a friend. She laughed, clinked her glass. “Cheers. To blonde disasters.” She’d had a bit already and her tolerance had been lower since Owen, but she didn’t care, that was another part of reality she didn’t need right now. “Who do you want to start with? Who’s pissed you off the most?”
  10. Het was waar dat Josephine tegenwoordig minder lichtzinnig, minder lichthartig was. Het schilderij van Eva was sowieso nooit op waarheid gebaseerd geweest, niet echt. Ze had het gemaakt als herinnering voor Josie aan haar thuis, aan de plek waar ze gelukkig was geweest, geliefd en in haar element, maar op het moment dat zij zelf al verhuisd was. Van de ene familie naar de andere familie was overgegaan, en er niet meer echt bij hoorde, bij die andere blonde kindertjes voor het grote, geschilderde kasteel. Op het moment dat zij al volwassen was geweest. Althans officieel. Nu was het allemaal nog een paar graden erger; nu waren beide families waartoe ze tot nog toe ten goede of ten kwade had toebehoord (of waaraan, als eigendom, als waarde) in grote mate weggevallen. Haar ouders zou zij niet meer spreken; haar zusje zag ze louter nog stiekem. En Keane... Tja, Keane. Die was in Cadwgan Castle gebleven en zij kwam op bezoek. Elke keer met lood in haar schoenen. Zo min mogelijk met Owen. De reis was vermoeiend voor de jongen... En ze kwam niet meer af van het gevoel dat ze Keane niet bij Owen in de buurt wilde hebben. Dat hij gevaarlijk was. Voor haar, en voor hun kleintje. Ze kon het niet verantwoorden (daarvoor had ze herinneringen nodig die ze niet meer volledig bezat) maar ze voelde ze... voelde het in al haar instinctieve reacties. En bovendien was ze nog altijd loeikwaad op hem, was hij nog altijd doorgaans een klootzak tegen haar, en was ze derhalve gestopt met vergoelijkend over zijn gedrag nadenken. Het was over. Hij had het verbruid. Owain en Keane waren daarvan echter nog niet overtuigd en Josephine liet dat zo. Ze liet dat zo, omdat ze er niet achter wilde komen wat ze zouden doen als ze zouden denken dat zij niet meer te plooien viel. Ze wilde dat eerst zelf weten. Voor het eerst in haar leven had ze een plan nodig dat zij moest maken. En ze moest het doen voor haar en haar zoon. Die nam ze mee naar beneden, nu ze gasten had, want ze liet kleine Owen tegenwoordig niet uit haar zicht. Als ze de jongen niet zag, voelde ze zich beklemd. Als ze hem wel zag, voelde ze zich machteloos... Maar ze nam het jochie dus mee, zette hem aan het spelen – hij was in een ‘schilder’ fase, a.k.a. geklieder, en in hun huidige huishouden liet Josephine altijd al zijn spulletjes staan, dus hij kon meteen beginnen – in zijn knutselhoek in een hoek van de salon, en begroette haar gast. “Lady Riannon,” glimlachte ze met een kleine knix, en een even kleine glimlach. “Ik zie de gelijkenis.” En dat doet u geen goed. “Een eer u te ontmoeten. Keane sprak altijd erg liefdevol over u.” Tenminste, die ene keer dat hij het over de vrouw had gehad had Josephine medelijden met hem gehad en hem voor een moment geen onuitstaanbaar stuk verdriet gevonden. Maar de diplomatieke weg van communicatie was haar eigen, en ze greep er moeiteloos op terug. “Ga toch zitten. Kan ik u iets te drinken aanbieden? Misschien een versnapering, ook?”
  11. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    Josephine blushed to the very depths of her being as she pictured Timothy Belfrey in stockings, but it was a feeling of immense relief at the same time, she wanted to laugh and she wanted to giggle and she didn’t have to refrain from that because a scandalous aside of humoristic knowledge wasn’t going to do her any damage anymore. She didn’t have to stay clean and cautious. She was the mother of a potential bastard, the discarded bit of good breeding by an aristocratic playboy and she was ruined. In her ruination, she found at least her release. “Oh gosh… No, well I can’t blame him. Anne only married him because she wanted to be married before her younger sister and he was easy.” She smiled viciously. “The younger sister is prettier and cuter in every way, so you know, she had to resort to quite drastic measures.” And she still hadn’t done as well, she’d married up but not that up and she was aware of it every day. And Josephine had been nice about it, but that was over now. She never had to be nice about anything again. Of course, she proceeded to immediately be nice, but that was by choice. “That would be lovely!” she agreed happily. “I didn’t know you had a little brother. What’s he like? What’s his name?” She liked kids, okay. She thought she liked kids. She’d always had to like kids. Oh, God. “Mm…” She hadn’t thought about blackmail, actually. “Just publish snippets at a time. Cause a bit of a stir.” She smiled, looked at the actors for a second and took a new glass of wine for both of them, touching Christa’s hand as she passed her hers. “Make them feel less high and mighty. I mean, that must annoy you, too, right?” The whole ‘you’re just here for my convenience’ attitude, the ridiculous notion that they enjoyed it all…
  12. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    This was a clear difference between Christa and Josephine’s personalities. Josephine had never much enjoyed the spotlight, nor indeed aspired to it. She had been raised to be the pretty person that people paid less attention to in basically any context: daughter of the duke, sister of the heir, wife of the heir apparent... even at her wedding, she had been the girl to congratulate on the way to those more prominent and pertinent to one’s business connections. And she had always been content with that, because she did not desire a prominent place. She didn’t feel like she warranted one - she well knew that she wasn’t smart, erudite, or indeed that interesting a person. And those were her best qualities. To be sweet, to be supportive. The things that made her interesting were things she should hide, not things she should be proud of. With Keane, that had all come crumbling down. Flamboyant, unpredictable, irresistible git that he was. Maybe he would have liked her better if she had been scandalous as well. But if she had been, if she had been honest about the flaws in her character that set her apart from the crowd, she would have liked him much less. “Well, here’s hoping,” she therefore muttered darkly, taking another deep gulp of her champagne. “But I’m betting that when this scandal’s just about to die down he’ll pull some other stupid stunt and get us all front page again. He has zero self-control.” And he liked it. Relished it. “It’s like he forgot to grow up. Spoiled little boy...” And she was the youngest by far! She was reluctant to let Keane ruin her night, though, and jumped on the opportunity. “Really? What about the Belfreys? Anne Belfrey sent me a note just after the news broke, to cancel a play date for the boys... said little Jim was ill. But she did ask me tons of questions, hoping I’d put something in writing.” Psah. As if. “And Jim wasn’t too ill to stuff his face with ice cream from the corner shop the very next day, you know.” She took a salmon puff from a tray with movements of righteous anger, then smiled again as Christa touched her arm. “D’you know, you and me together probably know the secrets of ninety percent of our elite? Maybe we should write them down sometime...”
  13. Karakter RSVP's

    Josephine past, ze zegt dat Owen ziekjes is. Is niet zo, maar hoe leg je anders uit dat Keane niet ten tonele verschijnt? En hoe blij je daarmee bent, btw. Ze stuurt namens hen beiden een gift card voor een dagje uit in het magisch centrum van een Europese stad naar keuze, om die honeymoon feels maar niet los te hoeven laten. @Keane Cadwgan
  14. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    Better off. She was better off. So much better off, even. “I know, aren’t I,” Josephine laughed heartily because this was good, this was excellent. Christabella was the first person who had ever expressed a like sentiment about Josephine’s current plight. Some people whispered about her angrily, thought she over it all to herself. Some people were terrified of what to say to her. Most people pitied her most sincerely... from a safe distance. Because she was a fallen woman, after all, even if it wasn’t her fault. Christa was the first to suggest that her life might have improved as a consequence of Keane’s folly. And of course it hadn’t - she had been ousted, she could no longer see her family (and as a consequence, save for Clementine, she no longer really wanted to), the father of her son was a crazy person she never wanted near him and for someone like Josephine the shame of it all was nearly crippling. And yet, there was something intoxicating about those words, about the way Christa said them. Better off. That was what she wanted to be. For tonight, she would pretend. She laughed, curiously, looked at the other over the rim of her glass. “What, no juicy details?” she asked, more forward than she would usually have been, but now she was fallen, now she was better off and she intended to make the most of every morsel of liberty that she had involuntarily purchased at such a very steep price. “Come on - my life’s all over page six of Witches’ Weekly, share and share alike. I won’t judge.” She grinned. “And, no. Most of my friends and acquaintances have abandoned their posts by now. You’d think marital trouble was contagious.” And it had left her feeling empty and lost. “Maybe it is, maybe I can go around blackmailing brides to stay away from now on. Like a ghost.” Oh, would you look at that. Liberated Josephine had quite the fantasy going. She hadn’t even had enough wine to excuse it by far. “But I’m glad you’ve been well, Christa. If you ever need anything...”
  15. [1838/1839][EN]Putting the 'free' back in 'freefall'

    Yeah, sorry, Christa, but Josephine no longer wished to spend her time in the wizarding world. She felt unsafe there, and unhappy, always with all eyes on her and none of those eyes were friendly. Some wanted to stare at her for the purposes of ordinary gossip but she was more concerned about the others, those that she felt might want to impose on her. Might have designs on her child. She was not sure where the feeling came from, could not explain it rationally, but rationality was overrated to a mother with concern. She traced it back to those days with Keane in his moods in Cadwgan castle. Him picking up her wand and pointing it. At her and at Owen. Ever since then, she had not been able to relax. She’d left Owen with the Auror today, though. It pained her but he would be safer there than he was with her, she’d never been great at duelling, and he had promised her not to let Keane in if he ever showed. She’d needed a night off. A night to herself. Desperately, a night to feel human. And she would amply compensate her friend for taking the trouble of meeting her here. “It is marvellous,” she agreed, because she suddenly recalled that complimenting Christa on her looks one must be detailed, specific and at length. “So inspired. Subtlety really is overrated, isn’t it.” They were guided to their seats and presented with their drinks. “And yes… it does wonders for your posture, too.” She grinned. “No more…” She made the bobbly head impression that befitted a wife of a Lord in her present opinion. “And, what have you been doing to look so good by now?”
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