[PV] What in god’s name is a satchel fastening?

[Devon Fondatore]

【 devon fondatore 】
—19 september, 2025— @Archer Murray—x

Devon thought he had picked up all the supplies on his list when he visited Diagon Alley last month.

But now, thinking back on the circumstances of that trip, it made a lot of sense that several things had been forgotten. They didn't seem too important to him, though, especially in light of what happened.

His first week or so at Penwick had gone well. New people, new places to explore, the thrill that came from the fact that he was doing freaking magic. That alone had been enough to carry him through most things. Slowly, though, a few professors had begun to notice that he was missing some fairly key items, and were quite frankly getting tired of loaning him things he ought to have bought before term started. Apparently, “I thought I had one” stopped being charming after the second or third time.

Which was how Devi had found himself politely but firmly directed toward Wyrdlan after class, handed a list of things he “really ought to sort out sooner rather than later,” and told to go with Archer. Did he need supplies too? Or maybe he was already heading there? Professors had weird reasons for pairing people together.

He had met the Modron boy only briefly so far, but briefly had been enough. Archer had the kind of energy that made it seem entirely possible he’d been born already in the middle of a conversation. Bright. Friendly. The sort of person who would probably happily start a conversation with a brick wall if left unsupervised.

The two of them stood outside the Scuffed Satchel, Devi wihth one hand in his robe pocket, the other holding the folded list the professor had given him.

- Proper parchment (NOT muggle paper!!!)
- Glass vials for collecting ingredients
- Standard-sized ink pot
- Measuring string
- Satchel fastenings

What in god’s name was a satchel fastening?

"You think this place will have all this?" Devon wondered aloud, knowing that Archer probably wouldn't know either. "It's kind of small..."

He let the door swing shut behind them and took a few slow steps in, eyes moving over the packed shelves. Boxes leaned against jars, jars leaned against books, books leaned against baskets of things Devi was a little nervous to identify, given he wasn't sure if the little brass object sitting in the shop's window display was meant to sharpen quills or bite fingers off.

Devi glanced sideways at Archer, glad to not have to navigate the shelves alone. "Anything you need to find here?"

[Archer Murray]

September 19th, 2025, @Devon Fondatore

Things have been going well for Archer. His first week—a cluster of lectures and lessons—has been broadly calm. In the time between his academic pursuits, Archer has been doing his best to procure a degree of social standing within Penwick. Much of the Modrons certainly look rather gruff, but Archer has realised that it merely comes from how they are perceived by others. To be a Modron is to be seen as cursed—a sort of bad luck charm in humanoid form. But Archer does not see it that way. To him, the house is about perseverance and outright loyalty. And he aims to embody those values throughout his time at Penwick.


Though Archer understands that magic can be dangerous, he would be lying if he said that the mundanity of the lessons isn't rather boring. He wants to do something more hands-on. More practical. Another Modron has already promised him help with that, but the other students and faculty alike are broadly uninterested. The tedium has brought about desires in Archer. Ones that demand his attention.
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AGILITY
Hours upon hours of busywork, days upon days of lessons with no end in sight... and this is the grand adventure they send us on? I'm not sure whether to feel disappointed or insulted.

CHARISMA
Relax! This is a golden opportunity, Archer. Anything could happen today. A chance encounter with a famous wizard, a new friendship, a pivotal—anything! You have to keep an open mind.
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Archer stands before the Stuffed Satchel. The building does not look all that impressive with its squat design and sagging roof. He is not focusing on Devon; his eyes are locked on the various baubles present in the window displays. To Archer, everything before him is a magical artefact bursting with power. He wants to touch all of it.

At last, he snaps out of his trance. "Huh? Oh!" He chuckles. "Mate, this place is magic! Maybe it's enchanted to look bigger on the inside. We can do that, right?" He most certainly has no idea.

Devon then asks if Archer needs anything from the shop. He stops to ponder for a moment before nodding confidently. "I need some fun. Look, I like learning about magic, really! But... I kind of miss being able to run around and let loose, you know?" He tells Devon. "But I do actually need some more parchment and ink."

That was true. Archer has wasted a good portion of it doodling—an old habit of his.

[Devon Fondatore]

【 devon fondatore 】
—19 september, 2025— @Archer Murray—x

Devon laughed, his eyes glittering with ideas. Yes, this was the ideal place to let loose! Alone! In a town all by yourself! "You sound like my kind of guy, Archer."

What else were they supposed to want? They were at wizard school. A real one. With archways that teleport you and ghosts and weird paintings and classes where your teachers ask you to light things on fire in the name of education. And somehow half his class had decided this was completely normal.

Devi didn’t get it. He wasn’t sure he ever would.

Would there come a day when he walked through the Portiport without thinking it was brilliant? When a ghost drifting through a wall wouldn’t make him stare? When all of this stopped feeling like the beginning of some enormous, ridiculous adventure and started feeling like... school?

Devon wandered a little farther in, eyes skipping from shelf to shelf with growing interest. There was too much stuff packed into the Satchel for all of it to be boring. That was simply impossible. Some of it had to be weird. Possibly dangerous.

Wicked.

His attention drifted over a shelf of colourful quills, then a tray of loose chess pieces, then a small rotating display near the window that immediately pulled him in. A bunch of wildly impractical eyeglasses spun slowly in the light, catching the sun as they turned. Some had tiny feathers growing from the frames, one pair seemed to have little bubbles trapped inside the lenses, and Devi would have sworn one pair blinked when he looked away and then back again.

“Hey, look at these!” he called, already reaching for the display before Archer had much chance to react.

Up close, they were even better. One pair had little silver stars hooked into the corners, another had lenses tinted purple, and one deeply unfortunate set had what looked like fur around the arms. Devi’s hand landed on a pair with star-shaped frames that gave off the faintest glow.

Without much hesitation, Devi shoved them onto his face and turned dramatically toward Archer, one hand lifted like he was presenting himself on some grand stage. “Well?” he asked. “How do I look?”

For one glorious second, he had no idea that the glasses had turned his hair an absolutely vile shade of green. Not a subtle green, either. Not a forest green, or even a sage. No, this was bright, offensive, deeply ugly green.

Devi, of course, remained blissfully unaware, blinking as he waited for his classmate's response

[Archer Murray]

September 19th, 2025

Archer smiles. Devon gets it. The two students wander into the store. Cluttered shelves fill the space, various knick-knacks and baubles present. To someone like Archer, everything is valuable in the sense that it holds a wealth of potential. Any single item before him could be something truly magnificent. Archer's bright eyes too wander over the colourful quills. The boy already has one; he does not need another. However, a small part of him wants to purchase one merely because of how aesthetically pleasing they happen to be. One of the quills bears a feather with the colours of the setting sun—a vibrant mix of gold and orange.
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CHARISMA
Stop everything. Do you see that quill? That is the kind of thing that catches people's attention! You need it. You need that sweet sunset quill.

SPIRIT
Ignore the quill, Archer. You have to resist the temptation.
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Archer pries his eyes away from the quill—a most difficult endeavour—and instead focuses on something else: a batch of strange glasses. Archer has never seen anything like these before. To the average wizard, these knick-knacks hold little in the way of style let alone value, but they truly magnificent to Archer. Alas, he is working with a limited budget. Meanwhile, Devon takes a pair from the rack and placed them upon his face. The moment the glasses reach his skin, his hair colour turns into a garish, awful green.

Archer barely holds in his laughter. "They..." He composes himself. "They look great...!"
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SPIRIT
Please don't let him walk around like that. He looks ridiculous and you know it. Tell him the truth.

CHARISMA
I think it gives him more character! You should tell him to keep it—no, to own it like the fashion statement it is!
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Archer gives in. He lets out a laugh. "Yeah nah," he begins, shaking his head. "You look like an absolute bloody pelican." He does not mince his words. He instructs his friend to remove the glasses—for both of their sakes. He urges Devon along. "Come on! We still gotta find what we actually came here for."