Secret Blossom Ball Event Finished

dress: Reducio

shoes: Reducio hehe none

mentions: @Rosie Parker @Reid Kovacs @Celynne Gray | interacting with: @Adam Harringtom @Alexx Séverin

Cecily was not the pinnacle of sociality, a trait that was displayed in full force as she stood awkwardly by her one friend and three acquaintances as the four of them made small-talk, otherwise known as the bane of Cecily's existence. She was not good at it, nor did she want to be. What was the point? It was all obvious frivolities, anyway, just like the rest of this ball. Commenting on the weather, the outfits, the glasses-- none of it accomplished anything except for filling the silence. And why was that such a large accomplishment? Silence was, in Cecily's opinion, not something created to be filled. Silence was simple, easy to understand. It didn't require knowing the right thing to say at the right time to the right people. It didn't require polite reactions and well-timed acknowledgements, but it was music to those who knew how to listen.

Unfortunately, however, appreciating the silence was an acquired skill not apparent in the hundreds of students around her tonight. And so Cecily politely listened, staying mostly silent, as the group exchanged compliments. She finished her cupcake in one last bite, savoring the moist cake and sweet frosting, happy to have an excuse to keep from talking. She brushed her palms against each other to remove any stray crumbs before her fingers, having nothing else to do, dropped to her side to start absentmindedly fiddling with the skirt of her dress, the tie on the front of her cardigan. She couldn't hold still, being in a position of such discomfort, as she shifted her weight from one side to the other. She waved and smiled and said "hi" as Adam introduced her to the other third-years. She recognised Alexx, of course, from their shared time as Prefects, and she knew enough about Rosie and Reid from Adam, although she couldn't recall ever meeting either of them besides perhaps in passing.

Speaking of meeting people-- crap, she had places to be. After Adam had so convincingly told her that this ball would be fun, she had not-so-convincingly forced Celynne to come with her with the irresistible promise of cupcakes. After all, if she had to be in misery, she might as well have another introverted Ravenclaw to share it with. But after walking with her to the pitch, Celynne had made a beeline to the quieter, less rowdy stands as Cecily foraged onto the dancefloor to seek out Adam. Now, if Cecily didn't come through with someone cupcakes for Cel, she was pretty sure there was going to be some not-so-nice words coming from the other girl. And, to be honest, Cecily didn't blame her-- she was really starting to regret attending the dance anyway, and nothing catastrophic had even begun yet, except for time seeming to move differently in crowds. She hoped that her fellow Ravenclaw hadn't been waiting for too long.

Although, as the faint sound of a scream drifted to Cecily's ears from somewhere on the dancefloor, it seemed as though disaster was imminent. Jesus, the students of Hogwarts couldn't even have one event without something monstrous crashing it. But as the noises seemed to continue, she couldn't make out any giants or fires appearing to destroy the students' hopes or dreams. That was always a plus, for multiple reasons: it meant no one dead yet; and she also had a bit more time to fight her way out of the pitch to a quieter, hopefully safer area, because this seemed like a good time to make an exit. And, at this point, it seemed like the stands fit the criteria.

"Well, this has been a pleasure," she said to the group now consisting of just Adam and Alexx, Rosie and Reid having taken their leave at some point during Cecily's mental tirade, "but I have a promise of cupcakes to fulfill." She tired to make her escape as gracefully as possible, hoping Adam would forgive her for leaving so quickly. Well, he should have expected nothing less when he saw how much she was against the whole idea when he first brought it up in the common room. "You both look wonderful, by the way," she added as she turned to leave. "I would hate to see your outfits ruined by some disaster." This last part she threw towards Adam, hoping he picked up on her passive aggressive comment. He forced her to make an appearance at this secret ball, and if she died here, she was coming back to haunt that boy.

She turned her back to the two students, disappearing into the crowd as she weaved her way to the refreshments. After a moment of searching, her eyes landed on a stack of paper plates, which she stacked with cupcakes. Only five would fit on the plate, but she assumed even that would be overkill. Although, it was always better to have too much than not enough, she decided, as she picked five different flavors and squished them onto the disc. Now, the hard part-- she held the plate close to her chest, trying to keep the frosting off of her dress, as she ducked through arms and legs and puffy skirts until she could safely edge around the outside of the pitch to the exit. Her shoulders relaxed a bit as she made her way out of the crowded pitch into the crisp evening air, using one hand to pull her cardigan closer around her shoulders. With everyone crushed inside the arena, the temperature difference hit her like a wall of ice as she started to make her way up to the stands. The wind grew stronger and more bitter the higher she climbed, blowing strands of hair streaked with blue across her face as she pressed her lips together to keep it out of her mouth. God, she was so ready to sit down with no social pressure and eat a cupcake.

action: taking cupcakes, exiting to stands.

Interacts with: @Willow Anderson (possible), @Victor Moore, @Arlo Reynolds, @Rafael D'Spacito (possible)
Mentions: @Thomas LeStrange, @Gem Stuart

She had given Victor a drink, he knew it was laced. Victor knew her well. She would never hurt him, so it mattered not if it was laced with something. He chugged the slightly bitter beverage and would feel vitalized, far from his sorry, chronically debilitated state. Where some were good with martial combat, others with spells, Marion was better with concoctions.

Arlo, her unfortunate date was dealing with one problem after another and without complaint. Things were going to get messy, she just knew it. "We never get a break," she admitted to Arlo (with his 0 strength) as he struggled with Victor's bag. Marion was not much better with her 0 strength also. She would try to help, hardly budge the bag. They could eventually drag the bag to the stands, the dance might be over by then.

"I am so sorry," Marion admitted. "This was supposed to be a very different night." Between the guy giving her a hard time and the drama surrounding her friends, a peaceful night out in the open seemed to be out of the question. "But this is why we..." she hesitated "can't have what everyone else has." She seemed to want to say something else but she was holding that back. She really liked him, legitimately. She was desperate in a way for human contact but not desperate enough as to forego her self-respect. Arlo was what she wanted in someone - thoughtful and kind. Magic had a way of making everyone beautiful, the form that they always wanted. But the wrapping was meaningless if the inside was vile sludge.

"You are super nice, you really don't deserve this," she forced a smile as she watched her perfect night go up in flames. Thomas dancing with Victor, there was likely going to be heck to pay later. "You should really run before this get's bad," she frowned.

If Arlo left, she would not say another word to him. He was smart to leave and she could not blame him.

If he stayed, she would likely regret inviting him but she would whisper something in his ear. "There is a bunch of people here trying to corner us like the Owlry. But this time we are hitting back."

She would then pull back the zipper slightly so that Arlo could see inside the bag. He would likely be confused by what he saw in there. Confused and concerned. Jars filled with a black, oil-like fluid.

"We're... well, I am sick," she explained. "But it is fine, under control," she stumbled over her words. She was wrong of course but she did not know that what she was saying was a lie. It was the lie that she was told, so it was the only truth that she knew. "Not contagious or anything," she added. For the most part she seemed normal, healthy and rather nice. All truths, but there was an unknown factor that the investigators only partially grasped regarding the girl.

Victor went from one altercation to another, she would stiffen and watch with wide eyes. The Quidditch Captain as no different. She let out a shrill scream as she saw Rafael lunge at Vladimir and Victor assail some boy she had never seen before. Her feet were glued to the ground as her two friends started a pair of fights almost simultaneously.

Roll to see if she notices Willow attempting to steal Vladimir's bag.

If she sees the girl trying to steal Vladimir's bag, likely burdened by the weight. Marion would attempt to stop her. "The heck is wrong with you!" She would draw her wand and point it at the girl.



A charm intended to stop her target in their tracks. Stop her and then... well, she would get the point soon enough.

If she did not see Willow stealing Vladimir's bag, she would target Rafael.



The same spell that Victor used on Gem.

Actions:
If she sees Willow do the deed --
Attacks Willow with Immobulus
If she does not see Willow do the deed --
Attacks Rafa with Slugulus Eructo

Race: Human
Abilities: A secret
Stats: STAMINA: 2 EVASION: 8 STRENGTH: 0 WISDOM: 10 ARCANE POWER: 10
ACCURACY: 15

Interacting with @Mildred Wilson

I'm so sorry it didn't notify me

She nodded, Scotland is definitely a little crazy when it comes to whether. But arguably she should be fine with the cold, but she was never good with it. "I'm actually from London, so its kinda stupid that cold weather isn't something I'm used to. For some reason i'm just sensitive to it, warmer temperatures were always better for me," She told her. Mildly annoyed with herself. She's tried before to acclimate herself to the cold by staying outside more, but she could never get comfortable.

She wasn't expecting the why are you here question. Honestly she just came because other Hufflepuffs were talking about going. But to her that sounded like a pretty ridiculous reason. But she couldn't think of anything else to say. "People in the common room were talking about it, I thought it would be fun so I decided to come," crystal told her, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She decided to distract herself by messing with her hair and staring at the french fries. "What about you? Why did you decide to come?" crystal decided to throw the question back at her. Hoping to try to make the whole thing feel slightly less awkward. She doubted that it helped, but she is never good at siting in silence.

Thea hurried over to the main Quidditch Pitch after hastily throwing on everything she had prepared the night before, and many nights prior to that. It was a stressful couple of days, but they paid off as she made her way onto the pitch. The days prior, there was a fire at the Hufflepuff common room which the witch was sure everyone already knew about. She was still uncomfortable attending the event, but she told some people already she was going to be there, so she couldn't get out of it.

Looking at everyone else, people her age and people younger than her, she couldn't help but feel insecure. Despite doing her best with what she had (and staying up on multiple occasions to make her dress and shoes more floral) she felt like she was underdressed for the occasion. Her dress was still moderately "fancy", but it felt like what she picked out was underperforming when compared to how stunning everyone else looked.

As she made her way over to the tables and further from the center, she clutched her wand in her hand, pressing her arm to the side. Stupidly, she didn't bring her leather book bag, and since the incident in the common room, she had made sure to keep it close by at all times. Thea considered moving over to the stands for a short while before she saw the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain and made the swift judgement to avoid her and sat down by an empty table, trying to avoid whatever disputes other students were having. She just wanted to relax. Preferably not get injured in the process.

Entering from the Quidditch Stands by being thrown against Thomas by Erin.

Wearing:

Reducio

The good news was he'd finally made it to where he had intended to be. The bad news was, the circumstances weren't exactly how he'd hoped.

On the plus side, at least whomever might have been counting on him all this time to have kept a watch on Vlad, as he'd said he would, could see why he had been preoccupied. On the minus side...he and likely anyone who knew him well enough would be of the opinion he deserved his fate at the hands of Erin. There was little hope of an intervention; not that Jack would have had it any other way.

As the redheaded Slytherin crashed into his housemate, Thomas, with the momentum of the part-veela's strength, Jack hardly spared a moment to see who he had fallen against, must less spare him a word before he was pushing himself back up and onto his own feet.

"Erin! I'm sorry, truly. But this isn't the time or place for this!" he said, trying to walk back over to her as he readjusted his bag slung across his shoulder.

Though he tried to focus on the third year girl who had flung him, it was very difficult for Jack to ignore the various familiar faces surrounding them.

Thomas Lestrange talking to a familiar-looking housemate of theirs (Santario Martin), silent Selim lingering nearby, Flash next to...Ruka, who was casting a spell at...was that Rafael? Rafael's gaggle of girls and...Gem Stuart attempting to make a departure? It seemed like Jack wasn't the only jilted lover that evening... He would have to look into that later.

Why was Victor, of all people, trying to attack him with a spell? Wasn't that a bit drastic? And Marion was with her wand out, too! Surely this wasn't some strange wizard ball tradition Jack wasn't aware of, was it...?

There wad Vlad...and...was Opeila with him? He couldn't tell; maybe she was too short to see over the crowd. Arlo was with some sort of bag...and Willow was with another. One that didn't look like it belonged to her. Even Persephone was present, like the ominous Bring of Death and Destruction that she was.

It seemed that the impending chaos everyone had expected at the ball was already well underway.

Action: Intending to walk toward and speak to Erin.
Interacting with: @Erin Ryan
Mentioning: @Thomas Lestrange, @Santario Martin, @Selim Faust, @Flash Holmwood, @Ruka Tân, @Rafael D'Spacito, @Gem Stuart, @Victor Moore, @Marion Davenport, @Vladimir Athanatos, @Opeila Seilun, @Arlo Reynolds, @Willow Anderson, & @Persephone Barret

Xailah was talking to Ruby, not because she felt she had to, but because she genuinely wanted to. Sure, she sometimes liked to please, but at the end of the day she had her own thoughts, and feelings. If she didn't want to talk to Ruby, then she wouldn't be doing so now. "Yes, Xailah Alptraum." She nodded in confirmation, returning the smile. The lioness did wish that she had a chance to speak with this snake before this ball happened, seeing that the fate of the ball- which was yet to be decided, was looming over her like the Sword of Damocles. Something bad was going to happen- something bad was already happening. A primitive fight between students. She would take that over a fire, or worse- another attempted kidnapping.

"A very sssmart decision! Dark red is a nice color for you." The metamorph brought her gloved hands together, folding them neatly, before resting them on her abdomen. While the snakes coat was indeed very stylish, it was interesting to hear that she had chosen practicality, over elegance. It meant that Ruby was sensible. There was some relief in her voice as she accepted Ruby's complement. "Thank you, my mother and father sssent me the dress, and I did the alterations." The thanks was more informative, if anything. She did not know how to genuinely return a thanks, seeing that compliments to her were rare things. Besides, it was hard for her to pick up on whether someone was being genuine, or just nice.

Xailah was pleased to see Illowy, coming over to join the small group. "Oh? Sssplendid." The more the merrier, she supposed. She turned to the Slytherin prefect, just in time to see worry fleeing from the girls ocean, blue hues. Where was Ruby's friend? She was sure Ruby was probably thinking the same thing. Xailah turned to the silver-clad snake when she finally approached. "How have you been Illowy?" The last time they had seen each other was at Griffiths, if she recalled correctly. The young metamorph had come to regret her greeting, as soon as it was said. Something was off with Illowy, she was not well. The lioness had not seen the marbling of inky black, across the girls skin, until the snake came closer.

Illowy most likely wasn't well. The Gryffindor knew very little of the attack on the Slytherin common room. Perhaps, this was the result of the attack? Illowy what happened? She couldn't bring herself to ask the question, so she just let it nag. What happened? The lioness pursed her lips into a thin line, of concern. "...You look very nice." The corner of her mouth twitched slightly, as it tried to keep itself from forming a frown. Her gaze jumped to a new face. It was of no one in particular. The owner of the face began to move towards the group, so naturally Xailah adverted her attention elsewhere. The new acquaintance would be a red-clad demon, carrying a outrageous number of tarts, and appeared to be familiar with the two snakes.

Perhaps this was Rubys missing friend? Xailah watched the girl exchange some words with the snakes; the metamorphs feline gaze remained unwavering, that was until it was her turn to speak. That little itch to take something, was creeping its way back to the metamorph. Her eyes floated to the nearby table with the handmade boutonnieres. "I have to? Sssuppose I refuse?" A gentle chuckle escaped the lions lips. "Its a gift from my parents, I just made a several adjustments to it." She informed, for the third time. The snake would turn her attention to Ruby, and the lioness would turn her attention to the boutonnieres.

She didn't need any of the flowers, but she wanted them. Wanted to take them. She needed to take them. The temptation, and the ongoing fight was only making her extremely antsy. A fight- goodness where was Pericles? She looked around as she swiftly grabbed a fistful, of unclaimed boutonnieres, and shoved them underneath her harness. As she stored them away, and made her way back to the group of serpents, she looked up just in time to see the ivory-clad lad and... someone ready to bring disaster. She brought her palm up to her forehead in utter disbelief. "Dear god..if he wanted a walking KICK ME sssign, I would have been more than happy to write one and hold it up for the world to see."

Xailah was like a cat. She was sly like one. She looked like one. And she could be towards people for seemingly no reason at all. Just like a cat. Only the funny thing about cats, was that they always had a reason. Especially if they were uneasy. "Of all the people you bring..." She murmured in disapproval, muttering something in german. The teletubby-looking child was an open book- a colorful sheet of paper, it lacked depth, or any sort of rational thought. That much was evident by how she dressed.

Xailah had only met this girl once, and once was enough. The girl was little, to no help at the Lake Errand, and Xailah quite honestly wanted nothing to do with her. In her three years of schooling, the Gryffindor had met a ton of people that were just like the Crayon Girl. And they were all the same, quite frankly.

Not exactly supportive of Pericles decision to gather the child, but willing to hold her tongue Xailah turned to the boy. "Pericles, if we still plan on going to the ssstands, I sssuggest we do so now before it gets too crowded. You needn't worry about the fight, it will resolve itself." She assured, motioning in the direction of the stands. "Will you three be coming with? I think we could use your company." She smiled, as she questioned the three snakes.

Koko entered the Quidditch Pitch in awe of how it had been decorated. She was late, of course, but fashionably late, as her aunt had told her. It was important to make a statement, and being fashionably late was certainly a way to do so.

Walking onto the Pitch gave Koko a sense of deja vu - she'd been here before, of course she'd been here before. She was the team's Keeper, the one who had only let one goal through while she was at the goals - and it sucked that she had even done that. Shame - no, guilt, for they were not the same emotion - washed over the blonde as she pushed her way through the crowed, gazing up at the sky. Her amber eyes glittered, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. No, she told herself, this is a time for celebration.

And so she opened her eyes once more, letting a smile take over her expression, slipping into the old facade she had found so readily available when she'd lived with her distant cousins. She used to be so wonderful at switching her expressions, and now? Now, things were confusing.

The girl scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. There was Margo, the girl from the snow, Koko noticed, her smile growing slightly more genuine. Was Ruby here, too? Koko missed her friend, and it had been great getting to see her show her prowess on a broomstick. If she was here, after all, couldn't the other Prefects be? Koko didn't know what she'd think if she saw Luna. Luna was... Luna was scary. There was no denying that.

Koko sighed, willing to just stand there, unaware of the majority of the happenings. She was nearly retreating into a world she created in her own mind, smiling to herself as she hummed along with the music. She'd helped organise that - the revelation made the girl's content grow.

She swayed to the tune playing, observing, noticing one Thea Knott as well - she'd not seen the girl since their last encounter in the Owlery, one that made Koko feel like a hypocrite. She felt she needed to apologise, but she wasn't remorseful enough on this great eve. Perhaps another day.

Open to Interactions!
Mentioning Margo White, Thea Knott, Ruby Cazares, and Luna Choi.

Stats:

Reducio

Stamina: 10
Evasion: 6
Strength: 3
Wisdom: 6
ArcPower: 5
Accuracy: 6

Outfit:

Reducio

The boy’s icy demeanor mirrored by the girl’s apathetic appearance. Erupting within the pit of his stomach was an eerie feeling he consciously must suppress, refusing to display weakness. Santario, showing no intimidation, leaned forward without shedding eye contact to provide her name. A name he has heard before…no, not audibly, a name he has read---the school paper. Santario Martin. An answer provided, yet perhaps not the right answer. A realization Thomas placed aside for the moment.

The noirette confirmed her presence that day and provided reasoning for fading away from the scene. Her answer indicated a self-awareness the boy himself lacked. What a luxury, to know one’s limits at this age. Thomas stirred, folding his arms to rest on the table below his right brow rose slightly. Sole physical confrontation? He took exception here, deeming she implied his approach that day was one-dimensional. “Appearances can be deceiving, Martin.” He used the last name she did not verbally provide.

Words can also be deceiving, the connotations that come with a simple suggestion alter based on the perception of the individual. The intentions behind a speaker’s statement hold a truth exclusive to the user. Another fact is the way in which things are said, diction. To help the listener discern the difference between a light-hearted comment, or a sinister threat.

When the boy says, “I wonder how long you would fall before hitting the ground?” in a quizzical tone, the other could imply a sense of curiosity or merriment. Circumstances in which things are said can change everything, like telling an expectant mother she looks great for being pregnant or telling a non-expectant mother the same. The circumstances that day: A frightened young girl looking to run, a ravenous collection of snakes demanding answers, and Lestrange himself, an unpredictable boy with nothing to lose.

We apply these circumstances, and the question “I wonder how long you would fall before hitting the ground?” A drastic premonition is applied. Regardless of intentions or follow through, the corruptive fear travels through the group, forming a collective opposition. As Edgar Allen Poe once said:

"Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality."

So, when Santario Martin says words are my weapon of choice, Thomas would wholeheartedly stand by this choice. “Temporary physical wounds do not match words that can fester forever.”

As conversation pivoted to the primary motive behind Thomas’ meeting with Santario, the silent assassin took his place aside Thomas. Despite Selim’s typical deadpan demeanor, the was an air discomfort Thomas intuitively detected. The boy appeared disgruntled, growing impatient with either the lack of knowledge, or lack of execution regarding the vaguely stated plan. A guarded plan due to the potential his motives were a deterrent for Selim, conflicting the brief partnership of the pair.

Thomas silently acknowledged Selim with a nod before turning back to Santario. As she spoke, his eyes flickered across the pitch, only processing segments of she said. A boy named Aaron, lending skills, go to shit, no plans for photos. In the background, the dominoes began colliding, choices have been made that cannot be undone. Each action has its own set of consequences, and as the tall Gryffindor charged Vlad, the ripple effect spread throughout many eyes that lingered on this senior Ravenclaw---the bane of the ball. Thomas’ uncertainty of Rafael’s cavorting prance around the pitch dissipated with his direct attack.

In addition to many others, the two shared a common target. However, it was more than likely their reasons differed. This would only delay what the Slytherin boy patiently waited to witness, and hopefully be present for. The reunion of the scruple trio. The seemingly witless execution of following one’s impulse was not entirely devoid of calculation. The girl he parted with discretely approached their target from behind to exemplify a shared agenda. However, the actions of this duo compromised the plans Thomas had to get Vlad’s attention, adding to his ire.

Thomas fought the sudden urge to get involved, seeing no benefit of placing himself on either side. Besides, Opeila Seilun appeared to maintain the façade she was on Vlad’s side, pointing her wand in the direction of the offender. Attempting to brush off his interest in the background, his blue eyes honed back in on the girl across from him. He fought the desire the intrigue the dark-hair girl provided, it was not an interaction he wanted to end. “You must understand my suspicion…” The visual evidence of a secret event. “I’d be careful who I trust those photos to.” Thomas rose from his chair, once again beckoning Selim to join him. “You’ll have to excuse me.” Was this Thomas Lestrange, using manners? The boy has developed a reputation consisting of angsty scorn, but he would give respect where respect for due. And for the moment, the impression this girl provided granted her such.

“I can make it, so none of you ever existed if you so wish. It would be a shame, though. The grim reaper aura you put off when you came in the second time was impressive.”

The boy narrowed his eyes an amused smirk, looking down briefly to his attire before re-finding the 1st year’s sapphire eyes. “Only dressing for the occasion.” A rare genuine smile, followed by a nod. “See you around.”

After ensuring Selim by his side, Thomas refocused upon the three parties of interest. Most notably, Marion has left the half-goblin alone with the bag of interest. Given the fallout of the plan, and the looming haywire, approach the bag with the intention to overpower Arlo was now heavily considered. Thomas turned to Selim, speaking no louder than needed for the boy to hear. “Getting him to talk is now slim.” He leaned in closer, nodding towards Arlo and Victor’s bag. “The bag, Faust. It could give us answers, or blackm---”

THUMP, a boy collided into Thomas, forcing him roughly back into a chair. His lower back colliding with a sharp corner sending an acute pain through his spine, briefly staggering before losing balance and staggering to one knee. “The fuck—” Thomas looked up with a grimace to see the fox, standing over the pair of boys a huffing Erin Ryan. Goddammit. Anyone but the violet part-veela. If his plan were a musical record, she would scratch her fingernails along the spinning surface before snapping it in half. Fox regained his footing while Thomas remain stationary on his bum, recovering from the brunt of this collision.

"Erin! I'm sorry, truly. But this isn't the time or place for this!"

Oh Christ. A statement like this combined with a disgruntled Erin Ryan led to his deduction: She found out. Thomas fought the urge to parade around Fox with a handful of I warned ya, or I told ya so’s. Though the combination of pain, and the fact Thomas could not reveal Fox himself to the girl dampened the significance of this moment.

With his left hand, Thomas pressed the chair’s arm to regain his footing behind Fox. The point of his contact, his lower back, still left pulsing from the sharp impact. In his rage, he would begin a verbal assault. “Aww, you found out?” A sarcastically demeaning tone. “So emotional, Ryan.” An exaggerated roll of the eyes as he stepped forward aside Fox. “You look surprised...I am too.” Thomas did not completely mean the words to follow, but people say things in anger, things that won’t lightly be forgotten. “To think someone actually gave a fuck about you.”

@Santario Martin @Erin Ryan @Jack Burnett @Selim Faust

Interacting: @Breana Oliveire, @Xailah Alptraum, @Ruby Cazares, @Illowy Magnard, @Margo White
Mentioning: @Vladimir Athanatos, @Rafael D'Spacito

"I hope by 'clean' you don't mean 'boring'," Peri had mused gently, smile quirking crooked in a way which implied he wouldn't blame her if she had, "but I suppose it is tidy, and I do love my family." He permitted himself a subtle glow of pride, though his mind was still tampering with thoughts of alterations, what he would change if he could. Breana had been exceedingly creative with her sentimental ensemble. While his imagination drifted, the young wizard ensured his leading steps kept a steady rhythm, no fancy footwork which would trip her up, and as she relaxed he could feel Breana falling easily into pace. It was a perfectly pleasant dance, while it lasted.

Hearing Immobulus cast behind them, he upped his pace a fraction more, keeping Breana close for fear her glorious gown might hinder her movement. At her confused stammer, he started to explain with a fast speech, just loud enough to be heard above the din. "A reliable source says that Vladimir witnessed the event which saw Harry Potter detained. I suppose he must have testified against him. The witness' names were kept confidential until recently, for- as you can see- it was feared there were some students who might seek revenge. Particularly Gryiffindors." Pericles hadn't understood the fellowship those four groups provided when first he arrived, but the sense of belonging- and wanting to win- had been worming their way into his personality with each point earned. Even now, he felt himself harboring an increased admiration for Ravenclaws of old. He had seen two sides to the Gryffindor House: Xailah, a proud dignified feline hiding exceedingly sharp claws literally, in this instance, and Rafael, the similarly proud lion who was frequently held in "jockish" regard for his tendency to rely upon brute strength. They were on two opposite ends of a fascinating Gryffindor spectrum, though, this was an observation best picked apart on another night.

They wove through the crowd, out and away from whatever chaos was about to absorb the dance-floor, driving straight on towards Xailah. Pericles was exceedingly relieved to see the way she and Ruby conversed; it seemed from a distance that they were hitting it off. He glanced to Illowy, whom he recognized from a brief introduction as a friend of Xailah, then to Margo, whom he had met at an extracurricular experiment of Professor Lian's. While he did not know the two all that well, the lad seemed perfectly pleased to find them here, no less with Xailah and Ruby. He and Breana made six: now that was strength in numbers, assuming they were willing to tag along. Upon meeting eyes with Ruby, who he visibly brightened at the sight of, that borderline stern expression cracked with an earnest grin. "I was glad t'see you waving, Ruby," he called as they approached, managing to sound softly cheery in spite of it all, "and I hope you don't mind me sending someone your way. Xailah is a friend of mine, and so is Breana, if you haven't met." He gestured to each of the three while he said their names, a means by which to introduce each of them, then looked from one vaguely familiar face to the next. Xailah's prompt had him nodding.

With all the casual intonation of one simply inviting others to tea, Pericles declared: "I was hoping to find some familiar faces tonight. You see, I didn't want to outright stop this ball, but I cannot say I'm exactly-" he glanced to the dance-floor, then back between the five witches "-optimistic about it, either. I would like to watch over the event, though I do not think that would be best done from here, in the heart of it all. I would like to head to the stands. That way, we can see the pitch and the Grounds." One hand still rested on the hilt of his wand, the other gesturing out and away towards the nearest set of stairs, the Ravenclaw remarked "No trouble if your intent is to enjoy the ball, but I would be very happy for any company." He would wait for some signs of affirmation before weaving through the throngs once again, headed for higher ground.

Action: Leaving Pitch, heading to the Stands