- Messages
- 14
- OOC First Name
- Camilla
- Blood Status
- Half Blood
- Relationship Status
- Divorced
- Sexual Orientation
- Straight
- Wand
- Curly 16.5" Sturdy Hornbeam Wand with Vampire Blood Core
- Age
- 41
Leon was starting to appear respectable.
Since Yuelia was bound to be going to school soon - her magic was already showing, much to his delight - he was no longer bound to their tiny home on the south island, scrounging gil from sellung remedies to local witches and wizards. He had to admit he would miss the carefree nature of the business, setting his own hours, spending time with his daughter, experimentation.
But education wasn't cheap, and Leon was insistent that Yuelia not want for anything when she went to Hogwarts. So stable employment it was. At least he was bound to be kept busy, crafting antidotes and keeping up supplies of potions and remedies to the hospital. Sleeping draughts were simple enough to start with, he supposed.
He was impressed by the room - far better than his quaint little shed that barely had room to move. Maybe not as homey, but certainly far more suitable for potioneering. He arranged his desk carefully, bound notes in the secomd drawer, a selection of inks and quills and parchment in the top, and on the desk a potted plant and a photograph of him and his daughter, reminding him why he needed to be respectable in the first place.
Since Yuelia was bound to be going to school soon - her magic was already showing, much to his delight - he was no longer bound to their tiny home on the south island, scrounging gil from sellung remedies to local witches and wizards. He had to admit he would miss the carefree nature of the business, setting his own hours, spending time with his daughter, experimentation.
But education wasn't cheap, and Leon was insistent that Yuelia not want for anything when she went to Hogwarts. So stable employment it was. At least he was bound to be kept busy, crafting antidotes and keeping up supplies of potions and remedies to the hospital. Sleeping draughts were simple enough to start with, he supposed.
He was impressed by the room - far better than his quaint little shed that barely had room to move. Maybe not as homey, but certainly far more suitable for potioneering. He arranged his desk carefully, bound notes in the secomd drawer, a selection of inks and quills and parchment in the top, and on the desk a potted plant and a photograph of him and his daughter, reminding him why he needed to be respectable in the first place.