<![CDATA[Knockturn Bound - Third Floor]]> https://knockturnbound.net/ Sun, 19 Apr 2026 12:44:30 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[oh, cruel fate ~ everleigh]]> https://knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=984 Sun, 12 Apr 2026 23:10:58 +0000 Maevie Golding]]> https://knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=984
Saturday, August 12th 1922
2:32pm


She had been looking forward to this for weeks now. Not exactly the hospital itself — that could do with a makeover if she were being honest — but one of the people residing within it. It had her swinging her legs, giddy smile on her lips as she sat on her hands in the waiting room of Floor Three, bubbling on the inside.

Her excitement was a ball of fluttering nerves inside her chest, expanding and quivering every time her thoughts drifted to her friend and the afternoon they would get to spend together. Since her mum had finally agreed to take her, Maevie had counted down the days.

She hadn't heard from her in all this time, had only been told by Tilly that Ever had been brought to St. Mungo's at some point, a better place for her to receive therapy. Maevie hoped that perhaps she was better now. Maybe she spoke again and maybe they could talk about all the things they had done since Ever left school. The healers here must have made some progress surely. They were the best after all.

At last a rather rigid looking woman approached, nodding for her to follow.

Maevie jumped from her chair, sending her mum a smile before leaving her in the waiting room. They were only allowing one visitor.

White walls passed in a blur, the woman's back blocking off the view ahead. Maevie tried her best to contain herself, hands gripping the sides of her skirt to keep her hands from fidgeting. After a moment they entered into a room where clusters of people scattered amongst various tables and chairs, couches and the floor. It seemed bleak, she briefly thought, but it didn't linger.

Because as they crossed the room they neared a window and there she sat.

Maevie's smile stretched into a grin.

The healer left with a stern warning to be quiet and to not overwhelm anyone, to which Maevie nodded curtly, waiting for the woman to leave before hurrying to sit across her friend.

"Hi, Ever," she greeted, eyes searching the other's, the beat of her heart a drum in her ears. "It's Maevie. I came to see you! How— how are you?" Fear mingled with hope as she waited — no one had told her how Ever had been doing. Only to be mindful.

She cast a glance around the room before scooting an inch closer, letting her hand vanish inside her blouse. When it reappeared, two simple, colourful bracelets of glass beads lay in her palm, a gift she had bought on her trip through London with her brother and mum.

No one had thought to check there before they had allowed her in.

Maevie held one of them out to Ever. "I brought you this. It's a friendship bracelet! You know, because we're friends." The other she pulled over her own hand, wiggling her wrist in the sunlight so the beads caught the light, clacking a little. "See?"]]>
Saturday, August 12th 1922
2:32pm


She had been looking forward to this for weeks now. Not exactly the hospital itself — that could do with a makeover if she were being honest — but one of the people residing within it. It had her swinging her legs, giddy smile on her lips as she sat on her hands in the waiting room of Floor Three, bubbling on the inside.

Her excitement was a ball of fluttering nerves inside her chest, expanding and quivering every time her thoughts drifted to her friend and the afternoon they would get to spend together. Since her mum had finally agreed to take her, Maevie had counted down the days.

She hadn't heard from her in all this time, had only been told by Tilly that Ever had been brought to St. Mungo's at some point, a better place for her to receive therapy. Maevie hoped that perhaps she was better now. Maybe she spoke again and maybe they could talk about all the things they had done since Ever left school. The healers here must have made some progress surely. They were the best after all.

At last a rather rigid looking woman approached, nodding for her to follow.

Maevie jumped from her chair, sending her mum a smile before leaving her in the waiting room. They were only allowing one visitor.

White walls passed in a blur, the woman's back blocking off the view ahead. Maevie tried her best to contain herself, hands gripping the sides of her skirt to keep her hands from fidgeting. After a moment they entered into a room where clusters of people scattered amongst various tables and chairs, couches and the floor. It seemed bleak, she briefly thought, but it didn't linger.

Because as they crossed the room they neared a window and there she sat.

Maevie's smile stretched into a grin.

The healer left with a stern warning to be quiet and to not overwhelm anyone, to which Maevie nodded curtly, waiting for the woman to leave before hurrying to sit across her friend.

"Hi, Ever," she greeted, eyes searching the other's, the beat of her heart a drum in her ears. "It's Maevie. I came to see you! How— how are you?" Fear mingled with hope as she waited — no one had told her how Ever had been doing. Only to be mindful.

She cast a glance around the room before scooting an inch closer, letting her hand vanish inside her blouse. When it reappeared, two simple, colourful bracelets of glass beads lay in her palm, a gift she had bought on her trip through London with her brother and mum.

No one had thought to check there before they had allowed her in.

Maevie held one of them out to Ever. "I brought you this. It's a friendship bracelet! You know, because we're friends." The other she pulled over her own hand, wiggling her wrist in the sunlight so the beads caught the light, clacking a little. "See?"]]> <![CDATA[3rd Floor: Home for Now: Open]]> https://knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=964 Sun, 29 Mar 2026 00:43:41 +0000 Everleigh Ravenstone]]> https://knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=964 5th July 1922


The room was simple. Sterile.

White walls. White floor. White linens. Everything was white. From the wood trim to the bedframe, the painted rocking chair and the bedside table.

Thankfully, Ever’s family brought the color. A rainbow splash at the end of her bed came in the form of a quilt. Her childhood stuffed animals sat against the headboard, keeping an eye on the scattered girl inside the room. Reginald the teddy bear, or Reggy if he was being spicy. Patty the calico cat was queen of the group, holding court over the lesser stuffies. And Larry the panda. Why Larry? No one knew.

Ever sat in her favorite spot in the room, if she had the emotional wherewithal to have a favorite anything, but it was where the healers typically found her when they came in for therapy and bed checks. The window seat overlooked a small garden plot, filled with colorful flowers and a bench to sit in the sun. Her hands were folded in her lap, her fingers twitching rhythmically against the fabric of her hospital gown. This wasn’t your typical tie in the back gown, but a long nightgown with a matching robe.

Also white.

She wasn't allowed her quills anymore, “Safety protocols, darling,” the Healer with the sharp eyes had said. Now, she only had charcoal sticks that left her fingers blackened, like she’d been reaching into a fireplace that wasn't there. On days where she felt like drawing, a white towel was brought in, otherwise there was a lot less white in the room after she was done.

The air in the ward didn’t move. No windows opened and there were numerous charms in place to keep the magical outburst to a minimum. To Ever, it felt like being wrapped in a tight blanket, smothered, too tight, almost itchy. It was quiet in her room, too quiet. She could sometimes hear the screams of other patients, but the walls and magical wards made it seem like a dream, a whisper, not something happening in the present.

The older man, the important one, came often. He talked about progress and therapy, words that went in one ear and right out the other. He encouraged her to write, to talk, to draw. When he came in to talk, a very one sided conversation, Ever sat in the rocking chair and listened. Nothing stuck, little was comprehended.

Potions were tried. The bitter taste stuck on her tongue. On the busy days she would be taken to a treatment room where a potion would be given then sleep would come. On those days she would wake in her bed with her brain pounding in her skull.

Alice didn’t live with her. That hurt the most, even if Ever couldn't find the words to say it. Her sister, her anchor, came and things felt right. There wasn’t words for it, but everything felt lighter when Alice was there.

“She isn’t safe to be around long term,” the Healer had said. On more than one occasion Ever’s magic had exploded during a more rigorous treatment. Memories coming on fast, causing violent behavior or magical outbursts.

There were times during the day where Ever was allowed in the common area. This space was more colorful than her white room. There were toys for the younger kids, bookcases with everything from picture books to novels. Easels sat against one wall, paints and colored chalk to make drawings. Her time in the common room was much like her time in her room. No talking. No interacting. A lot of sitting.

The healers tried to get her to participate, but that would require want and emotion, which she had none. Time would tell if she would get better. If the healers would be able to open her mind and extract the painful memories locking her in a mental prison.]]> 5th July 1922


The room was simple. Sterile.

White walls. White floor. White linens. Everything was white. From the wood trim to the bedframe, the painted rocking chair and the bedside table.

Thankfully, Ever’s family brought the color. A rainbow splash at the end of her bed came in the form of a quilt. Her childhood stuffed animals sat against the headboard, keeping an eye on the scattered girl inside the room. Reginald the teddy bear, or Reggy if he was being spicy. Patty the calico cat was queen of the group, holding court over the lesser stuffies. And Larry the panda. Why Larry? No one knew.

Ever sat in her favorite spot in the room, if she had the emotional wherewithal to have a favorite anything, but it was where the healers typically found her when they came in for therapy and bed checks. The window seat overlooked a small garden plot, filled with colorful flowers and a bench to sit in the sun. Her hands were folded in her lap, her fingers twitching rhythmically against the fabric of her hospital gown. This wasn’t your typical tie in the back gown, but a long nightgown with a matching robe.

Also white.

She wasn't allowed her quills anymore, “Safety protocols, darling,” the Healer with the sharp eyes had said. Now, she only had charcoal sticks that left her fingers blackened, like she’d been reaching into a fireplace that wasn't there. On days where she felt like drawing, a white towel was brought in, otherwise there was a lot less white in the room after she was done.

The air in the ward didn’t move. No windows opened and there were numerous charms in place to keep the magical outburst to a minimum. To Ever, it felt like being wrapped in a tight blanket, smothered, too tight, almost itchy. It was quiet in her room, too quiet. She could sometimes hear the screams of other patients, but the walls and magical wards made it seem like a dream, a whisper, not something happening in the present.

The older man, the important one, came often. He talked about progress and therapy, words that went in one ear and right out the other. He encouraged her to write, to talk, to draw. When he came in to talk, a very one sided conversation, Ever sat in the rocking chair and listened. Nothing stuck, little was comprehended.

Potions were tried. The bitter taste stuck on her tongue. On the busy days she would be taken to a treatment room where a potion would be given then sleep would come. On those days she would wake in her bed with her brain pounding in her skull.

Alice didn’t live with her. That hurt the most, even if Ever couldn't find the words to say it. Her sister, her anchor, came and things felt right. There wasn’t words for it, but everything felt lighter when Alice was there.

“She isn’t safe to be around long term,” the Healer had said. On more than one occasion Ever’s magic had exploded during a more rigorous treatment. Memories coming on fast, causing violent behavior or magical outbursts.

There were times during the day where Ever was allowed in the common area. This space was more colorful than her white room. There were toys for the younger kids, bookcases with everything from picture books to novels. Easels sat against one wall, paints and colored chalk to make drawings. Her time in the common room was much like her time in her room. No talking. No interacting. A lot of sitting.

The healers tried to get her to participate, but that would require want and emotion, which she had none. Time would tell if she would get better. If the healers would be able to open her mind and extract the painful memories locking her in a mental prison.]]>