Event Blossom Ball - Spring Festival

"I am sorry for your loss.”

He feigned a smile, more a twitch of his lips as he allowed them to spread thin. "A temporary trouble," he claimed cryptically. Stories rarely end at death.

“I do not understand why he would do that to me. I was never associated with the people who hurt him. I wasn’t even close to the incident when it happened, but I don’t fault him for the actions he took against those who did hurt him.”

"Complicated," as everything was. People in pain don't always think clearly. People in need don't always take from those that wronged them alone. The wrongs committed, the dangerous and desperate acts committed by him and those around him might have been something that could be explained but that did not make it permissible, it did not leave them blameless. Vladimir had done terrible things for his and their sake, there were deep faults in his character also. His controlling nature was out of hand. These impulses he felt, the type that made him cringe after the thought passed, left him wide eyed in the middle of the night. He was well-aware of his monstrous capacity and... the part of him that truly cared was getting quieter with each passing day.

“You, me, we’re all villains to someone Vladimir.”

A thought they shared.

“I am in your debt; I will not forget this.”

He shook his head, no. "The debt was already paid," he announced. He had taken his payment in full already. He was a dealer of another sort, not in gems or devices, not in people or experiences - he was a broker of knowledge. The memories she shared gave more than she would have anticipated - a memory is more than a snapshot, it has context. Names, places, meanings, scents and feelings. He saw the confines of a closet. A closet in her former family home. He heard the murder, felt her fear and briefly experienced the depths of grief she experienced with her loss. Statements less than relevant to a child have different meaning to a young man, separate and apathetic even if he was capable of being sympathetic.

He saw Victor again. Merlin, he missed him even if he never stopped talking.

He learned something important about one Thomas LeStrange, the boy that must die. It was kind of her to wish to support the Slytherin but he was a greater liability than asset. "I will ask nothing more of you," he reiterated for the sake of clarity.

“I truly apologize for coming at you the way that I have, and I hope you can find it somewhere to forgive me. If you cannot help me… I will stop wasting your time.”

"I can offer one thing," he claimed as he reached out to touch her shoulder. She would barely feel it but from afar it would look like an act of aggression. An exaggerated movement. "They have done some work with the Hess family in the past," a rather underwhelming wizarding family with an ill-defined heritage. They were a wealthy German family that lived in London, one of their children a student in this school. "I have no doubt Jürgen has been in contact with them over the past few months," although he failed to supply the girl with the why. "He might be better and safer company than that of Mr. LeStrange despite his questionable affiliations."

Interacting| @Vladimir Athanatos
Mentioning| @Thomas Lestrange | Jürgen Hess
Attire - Medusa
Action| N/A

The debt had been paid? But, of course, it had she had let him into her head, and as far as she knew, he got more than she could have imagined including easier access in the future. Information for information had been the most logical form of payment he might have wanted. Curiously, he could have lied to her and kept a favor from her. Something that might have significantly benefitted him at some point in time. Especially if the most likely outcome came where they saw each other as enemies.

Her word was her bond, but Vladimir probably did not know her that well. Or, perhaps, he would ask nothing more of her because he knew the same thing that she did. Her life was not expected to be long with the path she was headed down. Whether she somehow pulled off a miracle and survived Azkaban was likely to be her home for the rest of her life; the more than possible option, however, was that she would not walk away from the confrontation alive regardless of how long it took her to get there. If neither of her parents could fight off all three together, how would she alone be expected to? No, she was a dead woman walking, and she knew it.

Words of hope escaped his lips, causing her to look up at him fully once more as he placed a hand on her shoulder, something she did not flinch from. Hopefully, she did not look as pathetic as she felt internally clawing at the scraps he fed her. “Hess…” She mimicked committing it to memory. Again, he voiced disdain for Thomas, something she was used to hearing in some circles, but she would be loyal to him until he personally proved himself unworthy of her.

Her nondominant hand moved to lay atop Vlad's to most people, a sign of welcome affection; from a distance, maybe it seemed like she was trying to remove his hand from her. In reality, an expression of neutral but heartfelt thanks. Her eyes scanned his face before nodding resolutely. “Thank you, Vladimir. Truly. While I cannot ever guarantee that we will never see each other as enemies, at least for now, we are not. I will remember this.” She offered him a rare but genuine smile that touched her eyes before looking out at the decorations that the organizers really had done wonders with. “While I have no delusions of holding on to dreams that I simply do not belong in, perhaps, I should enjoy this beautiful night while it still looks like a magnificent painting. If we had not been here and, in the circumstances we are, I might even have stolen a dance from you. Alas, this evening will have other plans, I am sure. I may regret it, but good luck with whatever it is you have planned tonight.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to have luck on his side, but who knew, maybe whatever he was doing would somehow favor something she was doing.

Clad in a sheet she found, the bare footed (sorry @Dan Palmer) Irishwoman would stumble into Spring. The space was sparsely populated, it was better this way. It was her opportunity to investigate. In a world of uncertainty, there was one thing she was absolutely certain of -- disaster would follow a moment of happiness. A spark of joy seemed to summon disaster.

A pattern she knew well as she had come to understand it better over the passage of years. That happiness came at a terrible cost, in both blood, sanity and family. She had known joy and hope but briefly, a period of time most would label as 'content' with happy moments that should shade her memories of a certain time in a sunny hue. Yet that was not the case, as she recalled those saccharine moments with fear and later infamy.

The faces were always the same, the first of many lies. Of forms that mold, meld and shape. Their words, what she wanted to hear but -- it just was not for her. She would seek them when missing, defend them with bone and blood and then they would be gone. The girl left to stew, to revile herself and ultimately her lonesome station. Not that it would last for much longer. There were two facets about Erin Ryan nobody had ever gotten to learn of, not truly. The first being her unfaltering loyalty and the second how true her word was to her bond.

Deals were made, a few in fact. Only one had she come to regret, the one that she felt writhing inside her was not one of them. She did not mind if it twisted her from the inside, if it made her something knew. If it allowed who she was to be forgotten and gone. It was the next best thing to being dead.

There was but a handful of months remaining, the change had already taken hold. Soon this school would be left without their stalwart defender, the one that understood the truth and excised the evil that had taken root in this establishment without the expectation of gratitude. If anything, she had done too good a job as most failed to realize the insidious presence of the death witches that had taken root. There were still deaths, those she failed that she would presume were in the dozens at least. She feared they would never return, likely consumed by the wicked and hungry maw of Quinn Healy. She never understood what Quinn held over the death witches, how or why they worked together. Only that they did and that everything and everyone was not what they seemed.

Liars and spies. Dark magicians and dangerous ne'er do wells alike, all housed under the same roof as her vulnerable, weak peers.

"I know you're there," she would mutter as she stopped at a particularly suspicious lantern. Bright and sunny, the promise of safety that came with light. A cruel fallacy, a lie cultivated by a deathwitch. "I can see quite clearly that you are not what you say you are," not that the unfortunate lamp had said anything. She would tap the lamp with the side of her bare foot. The lamp would wobble in place but regain its center as it fell into place.

A sign of the devil within the seemingly ordinary lamp. With a frown, she knew what she had to do. She would have to warn the others the only way she knew how -- by loudly announcing the truth no matter how ridiculous it sounded. "The lanterns are watching us!" Erin cried out with urgency as she lifted one such lantern in the air with two hands. The light cast by the lantern decorated the floor in an off-putting floral design meant to what? Confuse or deter would be heroes such as herself. "Reveal yourself deathwitch!" She demanded and she shook the lantern back and forth.

No avail. The lantern was but a lantern, not a stubborn deathwitch waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

Mentions: Jack Burnett (indirectly), Quinn Healy

Interacts with: the death witch lantern

Action: Interrogating deathwitch disguised as a lantern.

Vladimir Athanatos wrote: 31 May 2021, 23:23

Vladimir Athanatos Interacts with: @Santario Martin Mention: @Thomas LeStrange, @Erin Ryan & @Jürgen Hess Action: N/A.

“Hess…”

It was not much, but it was the best he could do. She was after all, regardless of her pedigree, like him - limited in what she could do and what she could change. They were in a world made for adults, not teens. Of course, they represented the past whereas people such as himself and Miss Martin represented tomorrow if they made it that far.

He would slow her down but allow her to continue on with her journey. A calculation at best. But people were hardly cogs that he could place where he wanted and expect them to function in the way he had intended, despite his earlier presumed successes.

“Thank you, Vladimir. Truly. While I cannot ever guarantee that we will never see each other as enemies, at least for now, we are not. I will remember this.”

He expected to be the villain in the end, the oracles had already seen how this would play out. Well, they saw bits here and there that lacked context. A victory that would come at a terrible cost. He dismissed the notion, it clouded his judgment and unsettled him with a sense of cowardly dread he would have to repress.

“While I have no delusions of holding on to dreams that I simply do not belong in, perhaps, I should enjoy this beautiful night while it still looks like a magnificent painting. If we had not been here and, in the circumstances we are, I might even have stolen a dance from you. Alas, this evening will have other plans, I am sure. I may regret it, but good luck with whatever it is you have planned tonight.”

He let out a half laugh, t'was a content moment. One he would have to dash with a bit of ill-timed humor as he iterated a previous conversation. He was after all a man of symmetry. "I suppose you would again have to step in line," a bit of ironic hubris perhaps. Tonight he had no partner nor did he intend to find one, the statement was intended to add levity to the heaviness he felt within. A cardboard cutout had more life than he. T'was again, the fear. The mind-killer. The heart-wrencher. The wicked end-all.

It would have been nice. Nice if he could divert himself as such, to dance and to play. To experience the youth he was living. Conditions were not congruent for such things, it was his station, his burden and his knowledge... and exertion of sheer force of will. He had made dark deals far worse than those he now hunted.

A young, disheveled woman would enter donning only a bedsheet. A distraction, a danger. A recognized predator, perpetrator and prey. He saw the shifting scar and felt the knot in his gut, another who must die. A burden that was his alone to bear. He would swallow hard and let out a silent plea -- leave me with another choice!

A goofy look on Matt's face, a trail of destruction already in young Pride's wake. He was among the first to arrive at 'Spring.' A few were already there, making a spectacle of themselves. Not that it was much of a concern for Mathias, everything was going his way one this particular evening. "Well, well well... look at you, trying to get a last-minute date," he commented upon approach. He granted Miss Martin a toothy smile, evidence of his beating marked in red - the delineation of each individual pearly tooth. "Hate to break it to you brother," he gave the taller Ravenclaw a pat on the back as he walked past her. "The girl is out of your league," he let out a laugh and passed him by.

There were words intended for Casanova that would have to remain unsaid, the extrovert just had to be seen with some pretty thing at his side. Couldn't he just show up with that blonde he was in love with? She had the fool wrapped around her little finger. He never cared much for her, too... erm... blonde? No, that was not the problem. Sure, there was that whole high-maintenance look that he seemed to go for, but the wrapping was hardly the problem. The girl was rotted from the inside. And some people had the audacity to call him a liar.

No, he was going for one of the other hosts. Yes, it was no mistake his lips 'stumbled' in Levi's. Admittedly their past was purely coincidental, adding to it an impactful pleasure. Was there something more to the Slytherin's shenanigan's that meets the eye? Hell yes.

"Afternoon, I mean evening!" Mathias proclaimed loudly as he thrust a hand in Kazuo's direction. "I haveta admit, real curious place you got here. All the hellfire and brimstone, darkness and gloom and now we see ourselves in springtime in the midst of a full bloom." He was speaking loudly, over the atrocity that the developers called 'music.' An embarrassment really. "Seems to have all the trappings of a death-trap."

Kazuo had been idly watching Vlad and Santario chatting, curious about what words might be passing between them but recognizing that he wouldn't be able to eavesdrop at this point. Too bad. That was no doubt a conversation he would have liked to be a fly on the wall for. He plucked idly at the lyre he was holding as he watched them, impatience urging him to movement. Though he was capable of great patience when studying or investigating, he tended to lose grip on it in situations like these. Boredom quickly turned him from watcher to instigator. Yet there was nothing to instigate yet and so his mood began to sour. Surely everyone wasn't lingering in the Courtyard? Well, it was no doubt getting crowded up there. Soon enough people would arrive, he thought to himself to soothe his impatience.

There was, at last, one diversion to amuse him. The jorogumo, Erin Ryan, had appeared. Dressed in a bedsheet, looking like she'd just woken up, she was more drunk frat girl than Greek Hero. Not that he'd say that to her face. It wasn't that he was afraid of her, in fact, he found her quite fascinating but he liked his nose unbroken. He was somewhat attached to his face, maybe a bit vain, and a broken nose would very much ruin the fox-faced beauty he would grow into in a few years. So no, he would not be trying to get the Spider Woman to punch him.

As he watched, she seemed to take offense to one of the lanterns. Shouting about death witches - what even was a death witch? He sighed a bit, wondering when the girl had lost her mind. What tragedies had spun her into the monster she appeared to be? "Ryan!" He called to her above the music. "It's just a lantern. Please don't light my Ball on fire." My ball. Proprietary, preening, childish possessiveness over the playground he had built. Were others involved in its construction? Perhaps, but they were merely means to an end.

Yet that was as far as he would get before he was approached by a most repugnant presence. Not that he had met the boy personally, but he had heard things about Matthias Pride. Liar. Snitch. Snape boy. None of these things indicated to Kazuo that the conversation would be pleasant. He turned his gaze slowly away from the jorogumo, fixing Matthias with a polite smile and a slight cock of his head. His gaze flicked to Matt's extended hand and he simply plucked a string on the lyre, ignoring it. He did not like handshakes at the best of times, he certainly had no intention of accepting one from a suspicious person like Pride. "Yes, it's lovely isn't it?" He replied with amusement to Matt's observations on the event. "Everyone has expectations, after all. The Blossom ball must end in disaster. Wouldn't want to disappoint them. Though I'm not sure what hellfire and brimstone you're referring to." Kazuo's eyes narrowed a bit and he smirked. "Have you perhaps confused our Underworld for the Christian hell? Or are you simply foreshadowing the inevitable end to this night?"

───────────── Interacting: @Erin Ryan @Matthias Pride Mentioning: Vlad and Santario Action: Waiting to be entertained. ─────────────

──────────────── Stats Stamina 5 Evasion 7 Strength 5 Wisdom 6 Arcane Power 6 Accuracy 6 ────────────────

───────────── Abilities Perfectionist You have a reduced critical failure chance range by 1. In addition, you can counter up to 1 point of additional critical failure chances caused by abilities or spells (not potions). ─────────────

|Interacting|
@Jack Burnett @Kazuo Shimada @Mathias Pride @Winnie Harper
|Mentioning|
@Erin Ryan @Amelia Faye @Eden Gardener
|Open for Interaction|

Leaving the Underworld behind, Ruka was tugging Jack along with insistency and as quickly as his short legs would carry him.

"No rush," he muttered as he slowed down only slightly to make sure his brother wouldn't actually trip and hurt himself. He had half a mind to drape Jack's arm across his shoulder and just try to carry him away. "Atmosphere's just been starting to get a bit depressing." A lot. Painfully so.

Entering the Spring Festival was like passing into a completely different world. Music that didn't seem to fit into a magic school, nor into Ancient Greece, blared across the area in a blatant invitation to dance with as little grace as possible, the colours were vibrant and lively. It was beautiful, and Ruka would have stopped to appreciate it more if he wasn't painfully aware of Winnie sticking by his side like a leech. He could almost see the hearts with Jack's name inside her eyes if he looked closely enough, which he stubbornly refused to do.

No, instead of lingering on the decorations, Ruka let his gaze drift across the people who had gathered here by now. It seemed less busy than the Underworld, which he would have counted as a good thing under normal circumstances, but right now he was very certain that it would have been easier to lose Winnie in a crowd that among just a few people.

The first person he noticed was Erin, though approaching her would have been like willingly stepping into a minefield with the intention of losing a couple of limbs. He cast a glance at Winnie. Maybe he could... No. Erin seemed to be having a personal vendetta against the lanterns and Ruka couldn't bring himself to be cruel enough to throw his brother's new admirer in the middle of that. However, Erin's actions were the reason for Ruka noticing the best opportunity he was going to get at this point, in the form of Kazuo yelling at her to not ruin his Ball.

Picking up his pace again without making sure anybody but Jack was able to keep up, Ruka headed in the Japanese boy's direction, torch pulled close to his body to make sure he wouldn't accidentally set anyone on fire. "Look, it's Kazuo," he told Jack a little too brightly, a grin plastered on his face. "KAZ!" he called before he got close enough to speak on a normal level without the music drowning him out. "Kaz, you know Jack, right? Bet you guys have plenty to talk about in private, don't you?" He looked around himself for a moment as if trying to spot someone specific. "I see your date hasn't arrived yet so now's a great time for you to... Keep your eyes on this one, right?" He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment before his gaze caught on the boy from the Underworld.

Blinking, Ruka took a moment to contemplate. Someone who talked about making out and randomly kissed people in passing versus someone who was currently falling heads over heels in love with his brother.

The decision was easy to make.

"Great, it's you again," he told the boy, feigned delight in his voice. "Brought you some more kissing practice, you seemed like you needed it." Letting go of his brother's hand to instead clap him on the shoulder, Ruka turned to face the lovesick young Ravenclaw. "Winnie, would you mind getting me a new drink?" he asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly before turning to mouth a "You're welcome" is his brother's direction.

He was a regular hero, getting his brother away from serious advances. He wasn't sure what Amelia and Eden were doing, but maybe Winnie's new mission would compel them to get some drinks as well. As for him, he would make sure Jack was preoccupied for a moment longer before he was going to start working on a plan to make Winnie get lost in the Forbidden Forest for the rest of the night.

|Action|
- Entering from the Underworld
- Getting increasingly more stressed
- Ordering Winnie around before her inevitable death

|Stats and Abilities|
Stamina - 7 || Evasion - 9 || Strength - 4 || Wisdom - 12 || Arcane Power - 6 || Accuracy - 7

The Muggle Condition || Advanced Casting || Perfectionist

Lil Outfit Doodle

|Post Tracker|
1 || 2 || 3 || 4

The realm of spring was entirely different to that of death that had served as the entryway to to it. Whereas the Underworld had been oppressive, the atmosphere of the main part of the ball was whimsical, the esoteric playlist and the sight of flowers serving to cement such a thought in the boy's head. It seemed that most of the student cohort had yet to make their way through the path as set forth by Hades, but of those that had, Nicholas found himself not feeling underdressed for the first time in the night. The most visible sights being an older boy in a t-shirt and an older girl in some form of bedsheet toga. Absolutely charming. Still, the first year in his ratty outfit could hardly be the judge of fashion, nor did he dare to be. He had far more important matters to consider. Namely, getting this whole ball nonsense over and done with as quickly as possible. The sooner he was back in his dorm room studying, the more comfortable he would feel. A dance was not his natural element, nor was the theming of such a dance. Greek myths were best left to the ancient tomes upon which they were written, and spring was a season for activity, not for the sniffing of roses.

Frustration danced behind his dark eyes for the umpteenth time that night, the boy's sour attitude threatening to never leave. There was something about the McCowan clan, something that rejected the notion of formality or even of politeness. Regardless of house, his family had consistently rejected the very notion of formality, it played no small part in their continued consideration as a family of lesser bloodline, in spite of their pedigree. The thought and memory of such briefly passed through the boy's mind, perhaps his hatred of the ball was more out of nurture than out of nature. The concept was intriguing, to be sure, but it was hardly relevant.

His entrance was muted, hands tucked into his pockets and eyes darting from left to right, more akin to a bird than a boy. His eyes spied one of the girls who had bested him in his first duel, she spoke to the blonde boy in his t-shirt. She had been kind, but still, there was something about being sent to the hospital wing that had a tendency to stick with a person. The slight twinge of a grudge annoyed Nicholas, surely he was above such spite.

Regardless, he turned his head from the pair, not daring to listen into their conversation. Rather, he found that the only other discussion was between two of his fellow first years, two boys he did not recognise, nor did he particularly care to. After all, they had not proved relevant nor useful to his studies thus far. Still, their conversation was clearly the more approachable, as evidenced by one of Nicholas's own upperclassmen and his hanger-ons approaching. Words were exchanged, although as to what he did not know. It seemed he would need to bite the proverbial bullet sooner rather than later, and the other older students were downright intimidating.

Nicholas rolled his eyes, the expression hidden as he cast his gaze to the floor, before the boy all but stomped over the newly minted group. He barely knew any of them, he could hardly say he wished to, and yet he found himself interrupting an existing conversation. At least he had some form of footing to launch himself off of, the Asian boy appeared to be an organiser, his earlier shouting had betrayed as such.

What he hadn't expected was the discussion of kissing practice that seemed to reach his ears as he dragged his feet over, no matter how reluctantly, nor the request for drinks. It seemed that he'd chosen a perfectly inopportune time to arrive, seeing as the group may very well be dispersing soon. Just Nicholas's bloody rotten luck.

"'Lo," He greeted, and he could all but feel the wince physically in his voice as he did so, "Fine ball, mate, good show."

The words were as awkward as they felt, the visible distaste the boy expressed at being in the ball not at all hidden. Still, he was making an effort.

"Looks like most of the crowd might have gotten caught upon Charon's raft though," The joke was weak, and he knew it.

As if to compensate he swiftly added, his Belfast brogue thick, "Nicholas by the way, pleased to meet you all."

He wanted to die.

Action: Entering thread
Interacting with @Kazuo Shimada, @Matthias Pride and @Ruka Burnett-Tân
TL;DRNicholas cannot socialise

Interacting with | @Kazuo Shimada | @Ruka Burnett-Tân | @Mathias Pride | @Nicholas McCowan | @Jack Burnett | @Winnie Harper (if the latter two are there)
Open to interactions.

The decoration of the Spring Festival was a lot more welcoming than the Underworld - which, she supposed, made sense. This location was so far also a lot less populated, only a few students already present, most of them familiar. Santario was there, talking to Vladimir Athanatos, and the two received a suspicious glance from the Ravenclaw. Not that she really knew Vladimir, of course, the two had never spoken directly. It was what she'd heard of him, from a variety of sources, that provided more than enough cause for distrust. She hadn't been aware that Santario knew him.

A few unfamiliar faces her eyes skipped over, until her gaze caught on another small group: Kazuo, who she'd been looking for, talking to an unfamiliar boy [Mathias], and next to them, looking as if they had just arrived, Ruka and his brother Jack... and one of the little Eagles Dee had met at her bike training camp last week.

Dee blinked, slowing, temporarily distracted. How had she ended up there? What an interesting assortment of people. For a moment, she considered turning around and coming back later - Kazuo was clearly busy, and she'd much rather have met him without Ruka standing next to him - but that was just silly.

If she wasn't hanging out with Kazuo when Ileen showed up, there was no point to having turned Ruka down in the first place. Plus, things wouldn't be awkward, right? Ruka understood. This whole overthinking thing was really not like her.

As she watched, Nicholas McCowan who was familiar mostly due to duelling and the trials back in April, also joined the group, and Dee shook herself out of her trance. There was nothing to worry about, after all, and if she waited a bit longer, maybe the crowd around them would grow so thick she wouldn't be able to get through. They did seem to be attracting more and more people or rather, I should just finish this post finally before even more people show up. Standing at a distance watching them was certainly more awkward than just joining.

Finally walking again, Dee scanned the group as she approached. Ruka and Jack's outfits were no surprise, she noted with some amusement dancing in her eyes, she could have predicted those, down to the torch in Ruka's hand. Kazuo dressing as Apollo had been known beforehand as well, and she raised her free hand to wave as she approached, in the general direction of the group but mostly at her date.

"Hi!" she greeted as she drew closer. With the new arrivals, she doubted any sort of ongoing conversation existed that she interrupted. Her next words were directed at Kazuo, along with a bright smile, amused. "Am I late? I didn't mean to keep you waiting, although it doesn't look like you were lonely. At all." She then widened her focus to include the rest of the group, smile softening slightly for Ruka specifically. Despite the lingering guilt in her stomach for having turned him down, she was always glad to see him.

1 2

Action | Entering from the Underworld

Sta 5 | Eva 9 | Str 3 | Wis 10 | Arc 6 | Acc 8
Evasive Maneuvers | Charmer

"Ryan!" He was busy. "It's just a lantern. Please don't light my Ball on fire."

His ball. Proprietary, preening, childish possessiveness over the evening and the setting. Good, true or not it did not matter. He just needed someone that thought they had that level of authority if he was going to have his fun.

People might have an issue with Mathias, not that he minded. If anything, he relished the loathing. It gave him power over them. More than they were aware of. It was easier to assure a reaction. Especially if they wanted him to go away.

The sentiment was assured when the most basic of polite interactions was denied him. An extended hand left unfilled. He just ignored him and plucked on his lyre. How delightful.

Say something nice, a basic platitude.

"Yes, it's lovely isn't it?"

His underwhelming interest summed up in an expression and a tone. How humorous.

"Everyone has expectations, after all. The Blossom ball must end in disaster. Wouldn't want to disappoint them. Though I'm not sure what hellfire and brimstone you're referring to."

Guess he will have to see. A smirk that mirrored Kazuo's, for now we can play coy.

"Have you perhaps confused our Underworld for the Christian hell? Or are you simply foreshadowing the inevitable end to this night?"

"Yes, I must have been confused," he retracted the previous statement for now. Means, motive, opportunity all negated with a reasonable alibi. And honey, he has been seen.

Shimada should have been called Mr. Popularity. Likely becoming an organizer of the ball had earned him a bit of (likely brief) fame. Burnett and... other Burnett? No, definitely not the same but very similar. He would blink twice. A metamorphmagus? Levi? Possible but improbable, the boy seemed to have his head screwed on straight and was not nearly dramatic enough. He would be screaming about how much he did not care about his virginial lips being assailed or if he could make a call for the evening, his date would be dragging him back to the castle or her cave by the hair like the cavewoman she actually was.

"Look, it's Kazuo."

Yes, a Kazuo in its natural environment standing there looking like a cardboard cutout he internally narrated.

"KAZ!"

In case the mighty nerd could not hear the metamorph's loud approach he gives a mating call, he continued.

"Kaz, you know Jack, right? Bet you guys have plenty to talk about in private, don't you?"

But why? His internal narrator stumbled over the conversation.

"I see your date hasn't arrived yet so now's a great time for you to... Keep your eyes on this one, right?"

Hell, I cannot narrate these weirdos. he would stand there ideally and allow the conversation to go on, the loud almost Burnett might garner some sort of reaction.

"Great, it's you again." The extrovert's attention now on the Slytherin.

"Wat?"

"Brought you some more kissing practice." He was referring to his dormmate. A new playmate, sadly another time.

"Why?"

"You seemed like you needed it."

Yeah, leave his clone here and run off. Was he leaving Burnett at his side or at Kazuo's? Notable effort, perhaps an act of desperation. Sort of a toss a wide net and see what it catches sort of moment. Didn't anyone ever tell him to be wary of strangers? The devil you know? That sort of thing. A momentary diversion, he was not going to mind. He only needed to understand why. The rationale was not immediately obvious. A pair of boys, less the goat look the real Jack had going on left an image of unfashionable party-goers and nothing more. Not that Jack was remotely fashionable on a good day, the goat was a particular eye-sore. Popular, seemingly for whatever reason they were accompanied by a cute girl. She looked, to him at the very least, happy to be there.

"Winnie, would you mind getting me a new drink?"

His date? A swap of gender norms. Fascinating. Was this what Levi did with his date? The puncher of men, fetcher of drinks.

"You're welcome" mouthed in Jack's direction. Heh, that was why. Escaping a girl. Girls were powerful, terrifying creatures. He had a slowly forming bruise forming on the profile of his jaw to prove it. Well, he was going to have to ruin it. After all, what sort of man would he be if he got in the way of true love?

"Actually, I had Kazuo first," Mathias insisted with a slight whine in his voice. "I need to file a complaint with an organizer, before he gets inundated in..." he eyed Jack and his date. "Efforts to protect Jack's latest," he proclaimed. He was not here to make things better, only worse. "You got a real type it seems," he was absolutely full of shit. He had no idea what Jack's 'type' was, he had no interest in the guy's romantic interests but he knew a sad escape attempt when he saw one. "No need to save her, I can tell Jack is crazy about this one," whoever she is. "This was why he was practicing kissing with the guys in the dorm I bed... You guys make a great couple," a perfect segue although he expected Jack to deny it. Hell, he dared the Snape boy to deny it.

Back to him, he only needed a few lines and then he would be good. "Unlike me and Levi," pronounced [ilevi[/i] as in 'levity' rather than 'leave-eye.' "You're co-organizer dumped me in the underworld!" He hammed it up, the drama was needed for the sake of his ends "and brought some violent girl!"

He expected disinterest from Kazuo, perhaps irritation that Levi already caused drama and the evening had just started. The later the intention. Frustrate the organizers. If he was lucky, a confrontation between them. Not that he expected the Hufflepuff to be his white knight, more a teen playing at being an adult and giving his previous victim a piece of his mind. Levi would likely do the rest, he acted as if he was dying of a fast-acting poison in response to a single tongue.

"Hi!"

Another pretty girl made her presence known. Was this a wizarding school or some sort of model academy. Good God.

"Am I late? I didn't mean to keep you waiting, although it doesn't look like you were lonely. At all."

Looks like Kazuo has a date. He eyed her exposed arms, not nearly as brawny as Levi's date. Good. Pretty in pink, the picture of femininity. He nodded to himself. Kazuo's reaction might be limited if he was distracted by the charming young lady. This might be problematic.