Secret Blossom Ball Event Finished

If you had asked Calanthe if she was attending the secret Blossom Ball when the rumour had first began spreading, she would have resoundingly denied any plans of attending… not before attempting to hiss at you, though. But as the day drew nearer, the young witch found herself becoming increasingly bored of hiding away under her blankets. The only time she felt free was during her midnight excursions around the castle, but even these made her feel… hm, what’s the right word for it? Caged? No, not at all. Sad? Something like that, but it’s too vague. Lonely? Ah yes, there it is. Even the encounter with one @Klaus Sohn earlier that month had done little to ease the longing in her bones.

So, on the 25th of April, just after dinner, Calanthe Choi found herself wandering towards the Quidditch Pitch. There was no beeline and the decision to head in that direction was not made immediately. The mood at dinner in the Great Hall was aggravating her, honestly. Giggles and whispers floated about the room, seemingly finding their home in Calanthe’s ears as she prepared to dig into her dinner while sitting, as usual, by herself. Before she could even take a bite of anything in front of her, she grew tired of the scores of students under the spell of the Blossom Ball. Slamming down her utensils and rattling a couple of strangers nearby, Calanthe stalked out of the Great Hall with plans to take a walk to clear her mind.

She tried as hard as she could to avoid looking in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch, but her eyes kept drifting over to the site of the secret ball, which looked to be deceivingly dark. To rid the thought of attending from her mind, Calanthe strolled to the other end of the castle, spending some time at the viaduct and the Entrance Courtyard, and even attempting to make her way down to the boathouse but turned straight back to the castle when she noticed shadows. They could have been harmless house elves, sure, but if she was caught by a professor, her “nightly privileges” would have to be kissed goodbye.

And so, Calanthe found herself back in the castle, where images of students in intentionally casual clothing departing to the Quidditch Pitch plagued her. It was not long before she grew anxious. The terrible feeling of FOMO found its way into her body, making her heart beat fast. Unable to repress the adrenaline pumping through her veins any longer, Calanthe decided to see just what all the excitement was about.

Making her way towards the pitch, following and being followed by groups of students, she was sure she would hate it. It was clear that as soon as she took in the egregious setting, she would turn on her heel just as she had done at the boathouse and make her way back to the dorm. Right?

As she neared the pitch, light within the site became more evident. Her eyes picked up on the pathway of candles that led into the changing rooms. She noted the crowd of girls getting ready, slipping into dresses and adorning their face with makeup. Calanthe wringed her nose at the sight, refusing to become entranced like she was at Madam Malkin’s during the Easter holidays. Despite this, her hands unconsciously found their way to her arms, wrapping around them in a futile attempt to conceal her own outfit. A dark red sweater paired with jeans and sneakers; she would definitely be the belle of the ball with this attire. But Calanthe had no formal wear, not even a single dress. She had not picked up anything in Madam Malkin’s, either.

Her heart began to beat faster. The thought of heading into the action without any sort of formal wear brought the anxiety back, but she mustered her best try at shoving the emotions down and pushed her way out of the changing rooms and into the main area.

Shit.

It was beautiful. Calanthe did not know where to look first. The setting was perfect. She assumed that the group of kids standing around the pitch being thanked for their hard work were the ones that planned this whole shebang and she had to admit, they did an amazing job.

No, they didn’t. This is all terrible. Totally hideous.

But her legs took her further into the pitch anyways. She noted the sign from the LGBTQIAP Club and picked up a red ribbon for Gryffindor. Settling on the fact that it was too cringy, she tossed the thing back into the box and swiped a boutonniere instead, though she did not pin it to her sweater. Instead, she kept it clasped tightly in her palm, ignoring the sharp prick of the fastener.

Hesitantly making her way further into the pitch, Calanthe’s eyes fell upon @Pericles Dralt whose face she had become familiar with despite never talking to him. He looked dashing in a stupendously knightly outfit. The sight contrasted with the image of him that Calanthe held in her mind: one of a major teacher’s pet. His attendance also interested Calanthe. She assumed he would be the first to run to tell the teachers. In the same vein, @Xailah Alptraum’s look impressed Calanthe. It was a get-up that she could imagine one of her character’s wearing in a game of D&D. The suave ensemble that Quidditch player @Alexx Séverin wore was also cool. It’s not like Calanthe paid attention to Quidditch though… not at all.

If this were a year ago, she would have been similarly oogling at @Lydia Cooper, @Atlas Reid, @Maria Dee and all the other girls clad in alluring dresses, but the Calanthe of the present could only scoff at the sight of them.

As her eyes gave the pitch another once-over, Calanthe suddenly became anxious again. She knew no one here and had no interest in making new friends tonight… so why did she come? Before she could make the decision to escape, a figure walked past her and headed up the stairs to the stands. This was @Sean Hearth, a first year that Calanthe recognized from her classes but, of course, had never talked to.

The Stands! I’ll just go there and hide out.

She made it one step before a loud cry came from her stomach. The thought of dinner had completely left her mind when she embarked on her walk, but now the feeling of hunger seeped its way into her stomach. Swivelling her head to find the food tables, Calanthe practically broke into a run to observe its contents. Satisfied with the selection, she placed the boutonniere between her lips to free her hand and began piling heaps of food into her arms. Once she was happy with her collection of mini burgers, fries and cupcakes, Calanthe looked at the drinks table. Grinning at the sight of bottles of Yoohoo, she grabbed two and tried balancing them on the pile of food occupying her hold. What resulted was a rather odd gait, bent at the waist on side and her neck elongated on the other as she tried to make her way towards the stairs to the stands.

TL:DR Calanthe goes to talk a walk to avoid the ball, fails, shows up at the ball in her casual clothes and takes more food than she should. It should be regarded as stealing with how much she takes ahah.

Reducio

Outfit: Dark red sweater, black jeans and dirty, white sneakers
Mood: Perpetually pissed... also, hungry
To whoever drew that map of the pitch: You're amazing!

Open to Interaction!
Blake's Outfit:

Reducio

Walked down in Dress Clothes

@Opeila Seilun | @Tyranni Whitethorn | @Katrina Walker

At long last, the Blossom Ball had arrived. The event was perhaps the most anticipated of the whole year, so to say its cancellation was disappointing would be an understatement. No, the announcement had been taken so badly it was undermined. And now the day of the festivities was here.

Bridget had not attended the last Blossom Ball, but even the completely closed-off girl of the previous year had heard about it. She didn't know the whole story, but she knew enough. Fires. Disaster. It was fortunate she'd missed it. The Masked Ball had been just as disastrous, if not worse, but Bridget had been there for that. The half-giants, fires, and stabbings had come as a complete shock to the second year. Real life wasn't supposed to be like this--you didn't have to worry about such horrors. And the thing that scared her the most? Professors had been at both previous debacles. There were no adults to save them this time.

One would think such expectations for the dance to be a tragedy would prevent Bridget from going. She didn't have a date, after all, and being a mere twelve-year-old, she didn't want one. Even if she was concerned for her friends' safety and the thought of something bad happening to them when she wasn't around made her sick (which it did), she could simply tip off the Professors, let them stop the ball. The student body hating her wasn't even a concern--she could remain anonymous and they'd never be any the wiser to who ruined the night. She didn't go blabbing, though. Because there was one other thing going could give her. Answers.

The walk down to the Quidditch Pitch, Nimbus 1700 in hand, was a familiar one. If she could shake off the dread that had been churning her stomach all day and ruining her appetite, Bridget might have fooled herself for a minute into believing she was just heading out to play Quidditch. Her change into ball attire was remarkably quick once she reached the locker rooms--all she had to do was switch the simple tee-shirt out for a dress. Her outfit didn't exactly scream 'for a ball', but the Slytherin couldn't care less. The dress, at least, falling just below her knees and plain white save for a few embellished periwinkle flowers, was suitable. Since one simply couldn't buy two different ball-appropriate gowns every year, she'd struck a deal to rent it for the occasion, and, with any luck, whatever damage touched the fabric would be easily undone by a Scourgify and Reparo.

Beyond the crescent moon shaped stud earrings, that was where the fanciness ended. The rest of her outfit had been born out of necessity. To hide the ugly black scars marring her veins from her right shoulder to her fingers, she'd donned a black leather jacket and simple black gloves. She also had on leggings and boots--one couldn't exactly fly a broom in a dress, and if things went wrong, fly she would. Finally, her thick, dark hair was tied back in a rather complicated braid to keep it out of her face. Whatever came her way, she was hopefully dressed to deal with.

After storing her tee-shirt in her locker, one of the perks of being a Quidditch player, Bridget, broom still clutched in hand and wand quite literally up her sleeve, emerged onto the Pitch. The place she spent so much time had been transformed. Innumerable candles floated in the air, somehow encased in bubbles, and the ground beneath her feet, while visually the same, felt hard like stone. With the addition of tables and a dance floor, it was hard to believe this was a sports stadium. Bridget didn't miss the spots for leaving brooms for quick access in case of emergency, but there was no way she was leaving hers there. For one, she didn't want to lose the precious item, and also, if things went wrong it would be much faster to have it on hand. Taking it all in, she felt ridiculously small and powerless. The goal tonight had never been to save everyone, of course; she wasn't that heroic and it just wasn't possible. But looking at the younger students, those in long, beautiful dresses, having fun, not knowing how much danger they could be in... No. Her job was to get answers.

Weaving though the edges of the crowd, she tried, and mostly failed, to hold the fear at bay. There are too many people. What if someone actually dies this time? Spotting Opeila and Tyranni, she gave a small wave and a meaningful look before moving on. And then she saw Katrina, one of the few people she considered a friend. The Gryffindor looked stunning in a long teal dress. Veering over to the redhead, Bridget gave her a slightly tense smile. "Nice dress. You look great." Bridget rubbed the back of her neck, starting to panic a little. What if while she was off on her own mission something happened to Katrina? "Stay safe, okay?"

With a quick nod to the girl, Bridget moved on. Tonight was risky. Dangerous. But Bridget was going to get those answers.

Reducio

Bridget changed into her outfit.

OPEN TO INTERACTIONS (both positive and negative LOL)

OPEN TO INTERACTIONS

Grace couldn’t believe the risk she was taking, she would never do this, but she already was walking to the Quidditch pitch, it was weird.

She hid her outfit in her bag that she takes everywhere with her, it wouldn’t look suspicious because this bag goes with her wherever she goes since her EpiPen was in there, but it was suspicious that she was going there.

Grace quickly changed into her bluish white dress with the beautiful different colored flowers, she slipped on the flower bracelet with her favorite color, blue, and put her beige shoes with the flowers on them, her hair was up in a braid swooped on the back of her head, and she was wearing the gray stockings that were in her uniform since she didn’t have any others. Grace looked in a mirror, and she loved her outfit.

Grace took a deep breath before going out onto the pitch, looking down, trying not to look at the other students, she always was embarrassed wearing pretty things but she took another deep breath and looked up, nobody was staring at her, so she kept walking, she looked around the pitch, it was amazing, Grace was excited for her “date” Savannah to come, they were just going as friends, right?

Grace looked at the food and drinks, that was the thing she had to be the most cautious about, she could choke to death or just get a bad allergic reaction, but either way, it was horrible, so she just had to look forward to the other things of the ball and not worry about possibly dying. “Everything is going to go fine...” she whispered, but that might not be true.

The Ravenclaw sighed, her the sky reflecting off her eyes and her lipgloss shined, she wore a bit of mascara and eyeliner but that was it, she wasn’t gonna go all out today, but she still looked absolutely beautiful.

Grace twirled around, not even falling this time, even though she was wearing somewhat high heel boots and she was very clumsy, Grace smiled, forgetting every worry she had.

Interacting with @Grace Mint Hope it's ok that I interacted with you

Open to Interactions!

This was a bad idea. It had been the first words to come to mind when Thora had heard about a supposedly secret ball, and they still echoed in her brain now as she sat at the edge of her bed, dressed, broom in hand, and banging boot-clad feet against the side of her bed. Anyone enrolled at Hogwarts had to know what an infamous history there was with events, and how disaster never failed to befall its participants, sooner or later. She was plenty aware that last year's Blossomball had not at all gone well, and the Masquerade Ball, just a few months ago, had been nothing short of traumatizing.

But even though the dread settling in her stomach was quite literally sickening and Thora was quite scared, she was going. She had to go. Even for the slight fear of blood and sharp objects ever since the Masquerade that could possibly hold her back, she knew she was capable. Arrogance had never been one of her traits, as she instead opted for modesty, but even she couldn't deny to herself that, though cowardly, she could come in incredibly useful.

The instructions had been to dress casually at first, but to bring an outfit to change into. Honestly, Thora saw no use in being dressed up. A dress, even if simple, had only proven to be cumbersome in the past. The skirts didn't allow the motion that sometimes was required to escape, and they were just uncomfortable, especially to a girl who'd grown up wearing overalls and old T-shirts. So, she'd settled on staying in her casual outfit.

An emerald knit sweater, leggings, and combat boots. She'd definitely be easy to pick out in the throng of dresses and suits. Even though even Thora recognized that her attire was far from ball-appropriate, she didn't really care anymore. In fact, she'd stopped caring about what others thought a long time ago. It was an outfit chosen more for practicality, and the country girl did feel much more secure in something she could run and ride her Nimbus 1700 in.

As the quite honestly scared girl stood alone, surveying the Quidditch pitch with wide green eyes, she couldn't help but feel out of place. It was almost sad, how so many were showing up pink-cheeked and excited, expecting a night of careless fun and a brief escape from the professors' watchful eye. Perhaps Thora was overly paranoid, waiting for something horrible to happen, but it was better to prepare for the worst, right?

Now, even with all of her doubt, she wasn't completely against the idea. She had a fair amount of respect for those who had planned the event, as she could imagine that it was no easy task. Despite her rule-following tendencies, the girl could understand why people felt this way. So much had happened recently, what with the undeniably convoluted murder investigation, the fresh wave of work each day, and, for the sneks, the attack on Slytherin, she couldn't deny that a little rest from the chaos sounded amazing. But in the form of a ball? Thora wasn't so sure.

Biting her lip, the Slytherin stepped into the Quidditch Pitch, for the first time feeling her stomach drop rather than the typical adrenaline rush that came with a match. Even if others were not, she was ready for whatever this ball was going to throw at her, wand in her right hand and broom in the other. Now all she could do was hope--and make sure--that this (and the Quidditch Pitch) didn't go up in flames. Literally.

Outfit | Broom: Nimbus 1700

Entered from Changing Rooms

Anastasia Beckett had been both excited and extremely anxious about the "illegal" Blossom Ball. The moment she'd heard about it, she had begun her letter to Scott. She had considered asking one of her friends who was a boy, but she thought it was the prime opportunity to spend time with Scott and not be a complete mess. Parties were her prime environment. Her natural habitat. She had practically grown up in fancy parties that her parents had dragged her to as soon she could walk.

Anyway, her outfit was elaborate enough that, if she was stuttering mess, she could use that to distract. Another thing that she loved about parties was that she could flee an awkward situation by saying that she saw someone that she had to greet or that she was going to get something to drink and then just ditch whoever it was she was talking to. She hoped that she wouldn't need to do that, since she really did want to spend time with Scott and use the time to show that she was, in fact, a sane person. The one wild card was the American girl, Ami, that had somehow been invited along. Still, Ana just needed a few moments to be her normal self. Maybe not quite her normal self, since her normal self was a bit abrasive. Maybe a nicer version of her normal self.

Having gotten changed into her spectacularly poofy ballgown and setting her nimbus on the broom rack, she glanced around her. She was suddenly mildly regretting her choice of gown. The huge floor-length ballgown she wore wasn't exactly the most practical choice, but in her defense, she had chosen it when she had thought the ball was in a ballroom rather than a Quidditch pitch. Still, she could always Scourgify it if it was dirty.

Her shoes felt far heavier than she would have normally liked, but considering everything that was known to happen at Hogwarts events, they would be half decent weapons. That wasn't even considering the heels of her shoes. Not that she was planning on attacking people with her shoes, but seeing as the real Blossom Ball had been canceled for safety concerns, it was a good plan to have. Anyway, they were fabulous shoes that she would have worn even if they hadn't potentially needed to be used as weapons.

She really wanted coffee. She generally would have a cup or two at the start of longer evening events, which would get her through the event but not mess up her sleeping when the event was over. Still, seeing as she was a complete mess around Scott and what had happened last time she'd had coffee around him, she decided she would hold off for the moment. Anyway, that would be an excuse to leave later if Ami was a complete nasty tart like Ana thought she would be.

Her plan for the ball had already been thrown off by the irritating ginger joining them, but she had already thought of at least 3 possible back up plans. She hoped to have a chance to confess to Scott how she felt, since, somehow, he seemed to be completely oblivious. She wasn't sure how exactly, since, in her opinion, there was literally nothing she could have done to be more obvious. Boys weren't the most perceptive though. The mean American was though. Anastasia was almost certain that the other girl had zeroed in on the nature of Anastasia's invitation to Scott within about five seconds of meeting her.

Biting her lip nervously, she scanned the Pitch for Scott. The two had arrived together, but Anastasia had needed to change, since, unlike most of the boys, her outfit couldn't exactly fit inconspicuously under her regular robes. She twisted her fingers nervously as she looked for him. What if he had realized that she was insane and decided to run away? No. That wouldn't happen to Anastaisa Beckett of all people, right? She wasn't the person who was ditched at parties, she was the person who ditched others.

Her heart was suddenly in her throat and she was sure she was giving herself a mental breakdown before it had even started. She took a deep breath. At the moment, she caught sight of the blond boy. Her heart skipped a beat. He was somehow even handsome than he had been that morning with his rumpled hair and overall sleepy manner. It was really unfair to a girl's nerves for a boy to be that handsome and that kind. In fact, Ana would have been inclined to think that he had no flaws whatsoever, had it not been for his cluelessness when it came to her humongous crush on him. She approached him, smiling brightly. For the moment, the vile ginger was nowhere to be seen, so she would use this opportunity to try and talk to him and seem normal. "There you are! " she said, aware of how surprisingly perky she sounded. Attempting to take her energy down to a normal level, she continued. "I can't believe they were able to pull all this together without the professors finding out. It's quite lovely."

Reducio

Ana's Dress, Shoes, and Hairstyle
Broom: Nimbus 1700