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sweetpinkpixie · 04-14-2026, 12:12 AM

Madam Malkin’s had a rhythm to it. It wasn't obvious at first glance, what with the racks crowding the space and the heavy furniture placed just so, but it was here tucked beneath the surface.

There was something almost sylvan in the space itself, the dense arrangement of racks and dark wood, the way everything pressed in just enough to create narrow paths rather than open aisles. It wasn't cluttered so much as overgrown and Jae moved through it accordingly, weaving with an ease that suggested he knew how to navigate tighter living spaces.

Or, simply was, a performer for every occasion.

A step, a pivot, a slow drag of his fingers along a rack of robes as he passed, weight shifting seamlessly from one foot to the other like he was marking time to music only he could hear. His shoulder dipped as he angled past a display, turning just enough to avoid brushing it, the motion smooth like silk.

The extra bench presses and chin-ups had been working.

His gaze skimmed over the selection, expression thoughtful but occasionally teetering on snobbish. He really couldn't help but noticed certain things ― cut, fabric, structure, the way something sat on a hanger versus how it would actually move on a body. And, frankly… There were moments where the British wizarding world felt just a touch behind.

"Mm," he hummed under his breath, pausing in front of a set of dress robes, thumb and forefinger pinching lightly at the fabric before letting it fall back into place. "Bit safe, aren't we?"

Maybe he should have gone to the thrift shops instead. Those usually had more eclectic options that he vibed with much more.

A faint exhale left him as he shifted again, stepping sideways into the aisle with a soft turn that sent the hem of his own oversized black cardigan swaying just slightly.

France had been… different. Bolder lines. More willingness to play with silhouette. Movement that invited attention rather than settling politely into the background. Still. That didn’t mean there wasn’t anything here worth working with.

Jae reached for a hanger, sliding it free with an easy flick of his wrist before holding it up briefly, gaze narrowing as he imagined the way it would fall in motion. A step back. A shift of weight. A half-turn.

The robe he'd plucked from the rack was a deep, inky charcoal... the sort that was dark enough to read as black at a glance, but with just enough undertone to catch the light when it moved. It was cut slimmer than most of the stock around it, the lines clean and tailored through the torso before loosening slightly toward the hem. When he shifted, it responded easily, the hem giving a quiet, fluid sway rather than hanging heavy and still.

"You...aren't half bad," he murmured.

04-14-2026, 12:12 AM	#74 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,560 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Fourth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Jae-hyuk Anouilh Slytherin Seventh Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	open :3 astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Madam Malkin’s had a rhythm to it. It wasn't obvious at first glance, what with the racks crowding the space and the heavy furniture placed just so, but it was here tucked beneath the surface. There was something almost sylvan in the space itself, the dense arrangement of racks and dark wood, the way everything pressed in just enough to create narrow paths rather than open aisles. It wasn't cluttered so much as overgrown and Jae moved through it accordingly, weaving with an ease that suggested he knew how to navigate tighter living spaces. Or, simply was, a performer for every occasion. A step, a pivot, a slow drag of his fingers along a rack of robes as he passed, weight shifting seamlessly from one foot to the other like he was marking time to music only he could hear. His shoulder dipped as he angled past a display, turning just enough to avoid brushing it, the motion smooth like silk. The extra bench presses and chin-ups had been working. His gaze skimmed over the selection, expression thoughtful but occasionally teetering on snobbish. He really couldn't help but noticed certain things ― cut, fabric, structure, the way something sat on a hanger versus how it would actually move on a body. And, frankly… There were moments where the British wizarding world felt just a touch behind. "Mm," he hummed under his breath, pausing in front of a set of dress robes, thumb and forefinger pinching lightly at the fabric before letting it fall back into place. "Bit safe, aren't we?" Maybe he should have gone to the thrift shops instead. Those usually had more eclectic options that he vibed with much more. A faint exhale left him as he shifted again, stepping sideways into the aisle with a soft turn that sent the hem of his own oversized black cardigan swaying just slightly. France had been… different. Bolder lines. More willingness to play with silhouette. Movement that invited attention rather than settling politely into the background. Still. That didn’t mean there wasn’t anything here worth working with. Jae reached for a hanger, sliding it free with an easy flick of his wrist before holding it up briefly, gaze narrowing as he imagined the way it would fall in motion. A step back. A shift of weight. A half-turn. The robe he'd plucked from the rack was a deep, inky charcoal... the sort that was dark enough to read as black at a glance, but with just enough undertone to catch the light when it moved. It was cut slimmer than most of the stock around it, the lines clean and tailored through the torso before loosening slightly toward the hem. When he shifted, it responded easily, the hem giving a quiet, fluid sway rather than hanging heavy and still. "You...aren't half bad," he murmured. __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like