[ —the video turns on. Tessa's curled in a chair, book in her lap and the angle of it, the way her knees are drawn to her chest, protects most of her modesty. She's still, unmistakably, naked.

Gaze flickering to the device for just a moment and then again, longer, when she notices it's on. A second later, there's a hand filling the screen and the video shuts off. The voice function continues a moment longer: ]

I think that I will be staying inside today.

I have not been cursed lately, but— it was strange to see many people here in clothes closer to those of my period than usual.

Strange, though not necessarily unpleasant. I may prefer the City, but my time is part of who I am, is it not? Being reminded of that is not a bad thing, I should think.

I don't know where it came from, but all that I would really like to do today is to read a good book while having a cat curled up that I could pet. [ A beat, and the smile is audible in her voice. ] If this is another curse, I do not mind it at all.

[ filtered to the magic house inhabitants Howl, Sophie, Pavel and Peter ]

Would any of you mind if I were to bring home a cat?

[ woefully badly filtered away from Chekov, aka no filter at all ]

[ Tessa sounds very hesitant. ] I have been wondering— in my time, there were very strict rules as to what is appropriate when. Most things are not appropriate, to talk about or to consider doing, outside of wedlock.

I am aware that this is different, but are there rules? [ A pause. ] In a relationship. [ A little amusement creeps into her voice, despite the insecurity. ] I think that perhaps the books in the library are not the most helpful guide here.


[ ooc; Follow-up to the high school curse asdlfj but then life kicked me so let's pretend this went up in a somewhat more timely fashion? Also girly romance novels are clearly an appropriate guide to dating in the 21st century, Tessa, really. ]

[ The video conveniently turns itself on when the front door opens; revealing Howl leaning against the frame.

Tessa's frowning. You would, too, if you could smell the alcohol. ]

Are you all right?

[ She steps closer and ends up hugging him for a solid minute. When she draws back, her face is a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. ]

It is one of those days, is it not? [ She looks up. ] At least there are no mistletoes.

[ there's two figures standing at the railing, both looking up into the nightsky: tessa gray and pavel chekov, both third class passengers that got to know one another aboard. they are, perhaps, standing a little closer than proprietary, though not as close as the cold night air might suggest.

he is pointing at the sky, naming constellations, and she has her head tilted back, curls tumbling over her back.

her voice, carrying even though she's soft-spoken: ] I have never seen the stars quite so clearly, not so many of them!

[ Three pictures in a row:

One of Tessa (clearly recognisable as herself rather than Elena thanks to the period dress) and Chekov kissing, sitting on the sofa of the Youth Center and leaning into one another— it's innocent enough, one of his hands in her hair and one of hers over his heart, hardly more than lips on lips.

One of Will Herondale.

One of Tim Riggins and Tessa, also kissing— he's naked except for a towel and pressing her against a wall. Her expression is one of surprise, certainly, but she seems to be kissing him back.

Underneath them: ]

Who will she choose?

The new-found love — the old flame — or the one who left



[ ooc; anonymous text, but tessa'll have seen this and reply to everything out of a sense of— needing to defend herself or explain, I suppose. Have at her and those Victorian values. ]

I have not been to the library today, and yet I seem to carry the smell of books, of old pages and ink, with me wherever I go today.

Strange, perhaps, but it makes me think of long days in the library with a heavy book in my lap and sunshine barely filtering through the windows. The scent reminds me of peacefulness and thoughtfulness and— maybe even contentness. So it is not wholly unwelcome, truly.

Are others experiencing the same? Is it a curse, then?

I have [ the briefest expression of insecurity flickering over her face before Tessa straightens her shoulders and faces the camera more fully ] decided that I should learn how to fight. I cannot endlessly rely on others for protection should I need it.

There are those here that teach it, I am certain. Mr Morgan? [ A beat. ] Will, perhaps?

It is not unsuitable for women to engage in such activities. [ It starts as a question, but she changes her mind halfway through and it becomes a statement instead. These are different times, and even back home with the Shadowhunters, the usual rules of society did not apply. While they are part of what makes Tessa who she is (something she wishes to hold on to), perhaps it is time she stopped letting them hold her back. ]

It's been days now— I suppose it is safe to say that this is not simply a regular curse. I hope that everyone is well, or as well as can be expected. [ A beat. ] It helps to travel in groups.

[ And then another, longer pause. ] Will. Are you all right?

[ Tessa's toying with a piece of paper. The light catches on it: it's a recipe for pancakes. ]

Dr McCoy has— he's left the City.

I must admit that the flow of visitors may be a little overwhelming, but— if there is someone from the Institute here, if only for a day or two, I should like to make my own presence known, rather than spend all day in the library.

I only ask that— [ she pauses, clearly hesitant, before her voice comes again, stronger now and quite firm ] that whoever should wish to talk to me will not be too forward.

[ it doesn't quite express what she wishes to say (please, take care not to offend my 18th century sensibilities) but it comes close enough while still remaining polite ]

[ Tessa's been staring at her device all day, trying to find the courage to say what she wants to say, to find the right words. ]

That curse was-- [ no, she doesn't know how to finish that sentence ] I realise most people strongly dislike the curses and I am generally inclined to agree, but this one I did not mind. [ she loved having a father.

but there's more that she has to say. she takes a deep breath. ]

Will. I am sorry for what I said. It was out of line.

[ The video shows Tessa in the kitchen of a place that is definitely not the Youth Center where she usually lives, humming and smiling. ]

Dad? [ Not quite shouting, but close enough. ] Would you like anything with the coffee?

[ From offscreen comes a Southern drawl, footsteps approaching while McCoy speaks. ] I can make some pancakes, if you'd like. [ And here he is, giving Tessa a smile before heading over to the cupboard to check and see if he actually has enough ingredients to make pancakes. ]

Pancakes sound very lovely. [ Tessa's own smile widens in response to McCoy's. ] And they would prove a good foundation for a day of riding, would you not agree? [ Those words are followed by a long, hopeful glance sideways to McCoy. ]

[ There's a chuckle, though it's partially muffled by the fact that his head is in the cupboard. He returns a moment later, flour in hand -- that's right, pancakes from scratch. ] Absolutely. That's why I suggested 'em.

[ Tessa's whole face lights up. ] You know, you are my favourite dad. [ He's also her only father, of course, but that doesn't detract from the sentiment. ]

[ McCoy chuckles again, setting the flour down to wrap an arm around her and kiss her forehead. ] Well, that's good to hear. [ He's not always one for outright saying things, but he has faith that she can tell that the sentiment is the same on his end. ]



[ ooc; family day; blue is McCoy and black is Tessa. Replies will come from both of them, most likely. ]

[ The feed clicks on to reveal Tessa, face somewhere between stoic and utterly, utterly shocked, addressing someone off-screen. ]

I do not-- wish to talk about these things, ma'am.

[ A short hesitation. ] I am aware that I should know, indeed, but I would prefer to-- read a book. [ It sounds like even that concession cost her. ]