Secret Blossom Ball Event Finished

That had to be just about the worst thing to ever happen to Wyatt. Well, actually, it definitely wasn’t, but at the moment it felt pretty humiliating, though he hated to admit it, even to himself. He hadn’t even came close to saving the blasted Percival Gray, the brat. Wyatt should’ve known better than to help him, even if it was Percival’s fault that his spell backfired.

Turns out though, Percival got help anyway, and from Vincent, which was great. Another thing Wyatt hated to admit to himself, that he even cared at all if Percival was fine. The bottom line here, a lot of admitting was going on and it was awful. As soon as he stopped dancing, ugh, he quickly looked around to see if anyone was dying.

There were tons of people who needed help, but they were getting it. A few professors had arrived, and that made the defeating of the mosps go a lot faster. One thing that worried Wyatt, though, was that he couldn’t see the girl who’d gotten stung. He hoped that meant she’d gotten help, but he couldn’t be too sure. Everything was too much of a mess right now.

Since it seemed things were becoming more fine, Wyatt ran out of there. He was lucky to have left unscathed. Right now, he needed a shower and a ton of rest. He grabbed a school broom and flew off.

_{Action: Getting the hell out of here. Leaving this godforsaken thread.
Mentioning: @Percival Gray, @Vincent d'Arque, and @Santario Martin .}

Interacting:


Mention:



Logan tightly gripped Elsian's hand as River took off to assist someone else. She didn't understand why people insisted on trying to be courageous when it seemed that most of them were just getting injured in return. She glanced over to Alexis and groaned whenever she also decided to play hero. What did the girl think was going to happen when she threw a comb at the large flying insect. Luckily it just ignored her and didn't think she was worth attacking.

What the Hufflepuff did noticed soon after was that everything was starting to calm down. The mosps seemed to understand that they were outnumbered and had formed a cluster above them before taking off, probably to the forbidden forest. The decorations, that had been beautiful before, were barely damaged. A few tables and chairs had been knocked over, but other than that it seemed that everything else was fairly similar to how it started.

Now that everything seemed calmer, Logan realized that the professors may start talking to students. This freaked Logan out, there was no way that she was getting in trouble. Her father would kill her if he found out that she wasn't following all of the school rules and could have, or did, get in trouble.

"We need to leave, like now," Logan hissed as she tugged on Elsian's hand. She didn't want him getting in trouble either and if one of them got caught, than the other one most likely would as well and she did not want that to happen.


Action: Trying to leave

The ball had devolved into pure chaos, and yet despite being shouldered into another girl and falling to the ground, the young Slytherin was blind to what was occurring. All plans had failed. She had failed. She was not worthy of her namesake Tyr, and would never be worthy of embodying the strength of Hel if she continued to fail such simple tasks. Standing up, she became numb to the events that were proceeding around her. As she glanced around, her ability to process what was taking place at the ball was non-existent. All she could feel was rage. Sorrow. Defeat.

Throughout her life, Tyranni had always been able to achieve her goals whether it be through coercion, luck, or some other innate ability to convince others to join her. It was something she used many times with her parents in order to get her way.

Wandering though the ball towards the exit, she faintly heard the other students. Apparently professors had shown up. Was Miss Jensen here? She glanced around but did not see her Head of House, likely for the best. The woman had become someone she looked up towards as inspiration. She reminded her of her own mother. Her strength apparent, what had been the final factor that had driven the girl to seek her house mothers approval was her compassion for those in her care. The more she witnessed Miss Jensen around Hogwarts, the more she considered her to be like the goddess Frigg. In the stories her mother had told her before bed, Frigg was the Queen of Asgard, and was affiliated with motherhood. Although not her own children, she served as a step-mother to the god Tyr, the young girls namesake. This served as an accurate representation of the young Head of House in Tyranni's eyes.

Continuing to make her way to the exit, lost in her own thoughts, the girl would reach the doorway and attempt to leave the ball unless otherwise stopped. Heading back to her dorm, she hoped to get some rest, but was unsure if this was possible with the thoughts of failure plaguing her mind.

Action: Leaving the ball
Mentioning: @Hjørdis Jensen

Vladimir found Professor Vernatis, the Professor of Charms. The good man seemed clueless as the ravenclaw went on about the circumstances. They attacked his friends. They, being the aggregate motley crew of haphazardly assembled Slytherins with a smattering of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff with questionable competence and even less martial promise. Their actions predictable, even more than they considered as they walked into this trap.

"What do you mean that what you saw was supposed to be a secret? Who are they and why were they beating you and your friends up, damn near killing you, over a secret? What is this secret?"

All questions and this time the boy was full of answers. "I am Vladimir Athanatos, my friends are Marion Davenport and Victor Moore," he announced. Their names most of the explanation. Vladimir and the friends listed were the witnesses to Potter's crime - the murder of Dolores Umbridge. Their names stricken from the paper, the courts blacked out from the media. His as well as his friend's return to school came with a string attached - the confidentiality of their witness status. Was this secret kept from the Professors? No, of course not. Knowing a name without a face did nothing, for the most part Vladimir and his friends were unremarkable Hogwarts students. They went to class, kept to themselves for the most part and made little if any disruption. They were not the sort to make waves. The sort that were easy to overlook, forget that they were even in the same room. "That secret," he was not going to repeat what the Professor already knew.

His eyes flickered over towards Victor as his crispy form marched out of sight and then over to Marion. She was dealing with even more people trying to leave with Victor's bag. The girl was if nothing else incredibly stubborn and loyal. How she ever got Slytherin... Oh yes, that reason.

Enough distractions.

Vladimir would direct his finger in the direction of a few. Most he did not know by name but he did not need to. Those he knew the name of, such as Rafael would be the first he pointed out as an answer to another of the Professor's question. "Rafael," the Quidditch Captain for team Gryffindor "attacked me after shouting for Potterand then came at Mary, trying to steal Victor's bag that she was watching" he paraphrased. He did not add the part where he tried to set the bag on fire, it was like adding J-walking to a murder charge at this point. He pointed his finger towards some other members, Tyranni being another one. He did not know her name but his finger could pick out her form. "She attacked my friend Marion and tried to steal my friend Victor's bag that she was watching along with her." He pointed out Thora. "And her" Bridget Collins. He let out a sigh as he continued to identify their assailants. His finger would then point to another, this time a Hufflepuff girl. "This one tried to steal my bag," he shifted the bag slung over his shoulder. "Some boy in samurai armor stole some stuff from my bag," he added describing Selim rather distinctly with that single phrase "with the help of that one," he pointed at Flash. "Not sure who set Victor on fire," he continued. "But I saw the lot of them just let him burn," not that he was much help while he brawled with a few underclassmen. "Mary or Vic might know," he offered.

He was able to look the Professor in the eye. Tall for a youth his age. His gaze never averted, it did not need to. There was no lie. That was the best part, being able to testify under Verisatserum with conviction by ensuring the events seen and known were the events said. Submit his memory to a pensive even. "As for why," he took a few deep breaths. He wanted to look at least a bit troubled. Not too confident and calm, after all he was being attacked at all sides and seeking 'help.' There was just no need to look pathetic about it, he wanted the exude some confidence, some level of competence. It was necessary in the days to come. "Potter was well-loved. I represent an end to that. They are... paranoid with their conspiracy theories and their want to see the word through a very specific and limited lens. Proving I am a liar, that was was wrong... makes them feel less wronged." A reasonable-sounding 'guess'. He gave the Professor what appeared to be a tired or exasperated smile.

Marion was rebuked by Jack. No, she could not have Victor's belongings because he, Jack that is, was helping Victor. That Jack was the mysterious exception. The one Slytherin that was not trying to rob or threaten them. "Hecken no!" She did not know Jack or Ruka but she saw Jack near Thomas, Ruka gave Thomas a torch even. She did not know Nico, not really. She knew of Nico because she was a Prefect but that was really as far as that went. "You don't just get to decide that," that something was his. That he was welcomed. That he could or that she thought he should hold onto Victor's bag, Victor did not leave his bag in Jack's charge. In any of their charge.



Marion scrunched her face. No!



A voice only Marion could hear would repeat. But...I-- THEY!



Go and leave it to them. Leave it with Jack who had already run off to deal with a Mosp that was attacking a trio of students. Students she had seen. One was Vladimir's date.

'Marion, I'll bring it to Victor. The Professor enchanted him to walk him to the Great Hall. I'm going there aswell. It might take alot longer if you have to carry this all the way back to the Castle. I'll make sure he gets his bag. I assure you that. We all want Victor to be safe. Why else would we go to these lengths to do this, hm?'

Nico interjected, Marion found herself feeling frustrated and trapped. "Because... I don't trust you!" Marion shouted but her voice shook. Her nerves were on a knife's edge. "Coming to help now. Take the thing everyone else was taking! People were fine just letting him burn but you're all so interested in being good citizens now and want to bring him his stuff." Sarcasm dripped from her voice. She did not believe her. she did not believe them. she had no reason to. They had done nothing to prove a thing to her. Just take over. Push her out. Claim they had his best interests. Their best interests at heart. Bullpoop. She would not win as Nico forced the bag from Marion's grip, further solidifying the girl's intense distrust. Even if Nico was good on her word what would it prove at this point? Prove that she was a control freak (at kindest). Why rip away the bag in the first place? A bag that was not hers. Not entrusted to her. So SHE could carry it.



"Ermahgerd," she muttered. The mosps were leaving her be, the only good thing that happened this entire night. "Take the bag that is not yours. That you were not asked to watch because YOU wanted to take it. YOU decided it was best. Despite everyone else attacking us and stealing it, we should trust YOU because ripping it away from me did so much to prove to me that I should trust you." Her jaw quivered. It wasn't fair. Nothing was. Something she had to come to terms with.

Possession relinquished. Humbled yet again. Pride had done nothing for her. Nobody intended to let her maintain it. Where was Vladimir? She took a sharp, moist inhale through her nares. There he was. She would start crying and meander up behind him. he was talking, she was not even listening. her head was swimming, buzzing from all the noises and the events. She would bury her face into his back, that odd dark coat he so enjoyed wearing. It smelled like a machine. Her arms would reach to try to wrap around him as he started to cry into his back.

"You were right. They were so mean!" She sobbed although her voice was muffled. "And Vic is hurt real bad and they won't let me bring him his bag." She was referring to Nico and Jack and company but she did not say their names. "I just want to go hooome," she sobbed.

Marion would come at him from behind, her long spider-monkey arms wrapped around him she would start sobbing into his back. He was still trying to explain things to the Professor, she was not making that any easier even if it added some drama and passion to his calm and logical report. He was a Ravenclaw, so of course there was some semblance of order that was offset by the chaos that was Marion.

"So..." he shifted uncomfortably as Marion latched on. "Uh," his focus wavered slightly as he attempted to consider extensions to his report. "They have gotten the worst of it," he was referring to Victor and Marion who was rather obvious with the tearful introduction and Victor with his crispy exit. "Opeila from Slytherin just accepted my invitation to this ball," he did not mention that she organized it because there would be no need to and that was hardly the focus of his statements here. "Apparently her friends just wanted to give me a hard time," cruel school bullyism at his finest according to his report. Of course he knew that was going to happen. He picked the little first year for a reason. For a few reasons, most of which she would not even consider until it was too late. Her reaction was but one of the reasons. There were others also. He wondered what they actually made away with? The look on their faces was going to be priceless.

Vladimir would try to turn around, the jacket was thankfully water-proof but. "I apologize Professor," he wiggled around. "You're hurting me Marion, I am really bruised up from Rafael and his friends," he complained. Well he had a few but Marion had the might of a flaccid flobberworm, she wasn't going to be hurting anyone especially him. He tried to at least shift himself so that she was in front of him, an arm over her heaving shoulders. He needed to make some sort of show of this, if he meant it or not. A show that he was a concerned friend. A bullied student. A concerned citizen.

He would wait and see if the Charms Professor had anything else to ask. Anything to add. There was a lot going on, he did not need or want to take up too much of the Professor's 'precious' time. He just needed to plant a few seeds. Actions that he could easily prove. That they could not disprove because they were true. Have the Professor gain a curious interest perhaps in the bags, in the items stolen. Let the Ravenclaw boy have the final laugh and if the joke fails to find the punchline, then better luck next time.

"Marion really should get out of here. Maybe check on Victor in the Hospital Wing," he explained. "We are pretty banged up ourselves," he iterated the obvious. Marion was hardly standing with the little health the fragile teenage girl had remaining. As for him, he had plenty of fight left in him, but he did not need to admit that. "We should get looked at ourselves."

That much was true. The both of them needed to get looked at. Marion likely had a few broken bones not that it was obvious with these hysterics. She and Victor were pretty easy to hurt even when they are at their best. He would mutter something to Mary that if the Professor stained his ears he would be able to overhear. "I am so sorry. We will get them back I promise." This event taking place after she was cornered in the Owlry by LeStrange and several other Slytherins, she had a lot to feel anxious about. "Let's just get out of here before something else happens..."

She felt entirely useless. She was not able to hold onto Victor's bag, the simplest of tasks. she was not able to help him as he was burned alive. Not that most others even tried, a part of her even thought a few of the students enjoyed the sight. Her hand gripped onto the fabric of his jacket tightly and she bawled into his back. She was at a lost for what to do. She was afraid to return to her dorm, that was where they were. She was not going to return, she was going to likely stay in the hospital wing. The nice, safe hospital wing.

Vladimir tried to escape, well turn around. not that it took much effort to pull her around him to the front. She simply sobbed into his chest rather than shoulder blade. The crying did not make her better but it tired her out, wore down those frayed nerves. Ultimately after a short while the violent sobs would quell into a sniffle and the occasional tired cry.

The offer to go away. Away from here, where the fire was. Where the thieves and the scary people were was a welcome statement. The promise to see Victor made her stomach flip. She was not sure that she wanted to see him that way. Burned. In pain, if and when he woke up. There were already a few scenes in her life that she would much rather forget. But he needed them. She needed him and Vlad and Arlo... not that he was anywhere to be seen (deactivated account). Although perhaps it was for the best even if it made her heart sting a bit. She really liked him. But he was from a different world wasn't he? They would never be able to connect. He would never be able to understand and even if he could... he would regret it. It was selfish of her to think that she had any right to walk away. It was stupid to dismiss Vladimir's warnings.

"I am so sorry," she concluded with a sniffle as she wiped her eyes smearing the makeup than ran down the profile of her face even more than it always was with her bare forearm. "I just keep messing things up for everyone," a self depreciating laugh she relinquished her hold on Vladimir and tried to get some semblance of courage. The courage to walk on her own two feet. To be just a little bit brave.

She had heard a little bit about what Vladimir had said. She had not heard it all but she heard some. "I am Marion," she clutched onto Vladimir's arm. He was like a teddybear on a stormy night for her right now. "I am being harassed by a bunch of Slytherins." She knew their names and had no qualms sharing. "Thomas," maybe not their whole names but they were housemates. The boy had an acceptable wrapping but the boy was rotted on the inside. "Thora, Bridget, Tyranni, Persephone..." her voice trailed off. "Corned me in the Owlry, they blamed me for the spider attack in the common room. They took and read my letter back home, threatened to push me from the window," her voice was shaking. If Thomas was nearby creeping on Vladimir she would give him a long, angry stare as she rattled off those names. Her body was shaking also. "I am super scared of them," she added. "A-and then here, they were all about stealing Victor's bag,"/b] she stammered trying to make sense of things or at least give them some order. Vladimir had already pointed them out, but he did not share their names. The names would be similar. "Thora, Bridget and Tyranni. And... that really cute guy from," she was not an avid sports fan. She was the sort that would watch football to look at the cute guys run or the cheerleaders cheer. Yes, she thought girls were neat also not that she had any plans to pursue them. She shook violently as she gripped Vladimir's arm harder. "Gryffindor Quidditch boy."

She would look up at Vladimir and stop talking for a few seconds. "I--" her voice trailed off again. "I just wanna go home." Who could blame her?

Vladimir offered the hospital wing, a compromise at the very least. The place her head went to first, the place where the pain stops. Where the nurse is nice and gives her drinks that make it better for a little while. "I don't know if I can see him like that," she admitted. "Again." He was charred beyond recognition, she was afraid he might have already been dead even. "He should not have trusted her," she did not know who set him on fire but she blamed Wren Caster. She did not know the girls name but he recalled who he brought on a date. Who seemed to get let him burn. Who Victor had fought for minutes earlier. What a dang idiot.

Still she accepted the offer to leave. She wanted to go. She would nod in agreement.

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There were fingers squeezing hers, there was a familiar voice. Flash. Opeila almost automatically held her breath, forced the coughing to stop so she could listen. Flash. She had to get up. She couldn't be weak now. She looked up at him, still dizzy, but she could see clearly that Flash, her guardian angel, was struggling. As if her body understood that thought as a message, her lungs seemed to open up again, allowing Opeila to breathe somewhere near normal. He offered her to lean on her, to suport her. "It's okay... I can stand.", she croaked, suddenly doubting that it would be her who would need support before Flash. She heard someone shouting her name. And Willow's and Flash's. Jack? Was it Jack who asked the Professors to help them? Jack, who asked them to get behind him? Weird. Maybe Opeila hit her head hard.

She would help Flash back up, and walk in the direction where Jack was and the Professors- Another person saying her name caught her attention. Vladimir told Professor Vernatis what happened, blaming her friends. Damn you, D'Spacito. And you as well, Willow. Opeila turned in that direction, where Vladimir and Marion attempted to leave the ball. "Vladimir!", she shouted, hoping her sore voice would still reach him. "I had no hand in this and neither did my friends. I told them about you, because I don't trust you and wanted to be safe, but they had no part in this. That was someone else's plan. I just tried to stop people from hurting each other." She shot a quick look at Marion. Opeila spoke fast, Victor looked back and they had to get them to the hospital wing quickly. She just had to say it, even if it was just for the Professors to hear. It didn't seem to matter now, if Vladimir believed it or not. If he would not say anything, she would turn away and get to Jack, helping Flash.

Interacting with @Flash Holmwood @Vladimir Athanatos
Mentioning @Artemis Vernatis @Jack Burnett @Marion Davenport

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Interacting With: N/A
Mentioning: Vladimir Athatanos

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Status • Closed to absolutely all social interactions.

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[font=Segoe Print] Rafael could no longer function.

For a moment, the boy could have sworn he’d gone to the other side, as if the universe’s merciless tendrils had wrapped themselves around his soul and wrenched it from the shell he called his body. Maybe it was the harrowing circumstances that had twisted his mind, the trauma, the blunt force impact of an event so distant he couldn’t even begin to remember what happened – the world was spinning on its axis far too fast for him to keep up, the environment taking on a white glow too bright for him to properly register, his arms and limbs tingling as if scrambling to react to the pain he was surely about to feel. Never before in his life had he felt so shocked, his neurons so late to respond as even they questioned exactly what happened – where was he? What was going on? Was this heaven? No, there was no way he could have made it to heaven after the shit he’d pulled on earth. But the air was far too fresh and cool to be hell. Where was he, then? Purgatory, perhaps?

It sure felt like it – he would soon feel a bout of unexplainable pain as it washed over his senses in a moment’s notice, all the damage he had sustained during the godforsaken ball now catching up to him and cursing the child to several long and strenuous moments of torture. His face, his stomach, his bloodied up fists, his weary knees. His heart. Karma was a bitch, he idly thought, who knew she hurt so fucking badly? “God,” he breathed out shakily as his hands met the fresh green grass below his scraped palms, and – were those mosp wings? – pushing himself up as to get a better idea of what was going on. It was then, that he would notice the wreckage that littered the wake of his crash course – the damned mosp had sent him through a table, its body laying lifeless a few feet away. Though, the young Captain couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. Instead, his hand reached up towards his forehead, rubbing gently with wet fingers as to initiate blood flow, an inkling of idea to what he was to do with himself – probably not the best idea, though, he idly noticed as a blinding wave of pain struck his thoughts. The headache he now felt, was probably the result of a concussion. When had he received it? When Vladimir had punched him, perhaps? That would explain te strange behavior on his part, he supposed. Or, at least that’s what he would attempt to convince himself with. Because, deep down, he knew the result of his abnormal and impulsive decisions was only the result of the monster deep within his chest. The monster that he really was.

“Rafael attacked me after shouting ‘for Potter’, and then came at Mary, trying to steal Victor's bag that she was watching…”

The Captain’s thoughts were promptly interrupted by the voice of the damned Ravenclaw, Vladimir – his expressionless face soon morphed into a look of disdain, anger, his lips curling into a defined sneer and his eyes sharpening as he gazed upon the blonde beauty. The fucking snitch. Who’d taught this kid social norms? Apparently, a kindergartener – his big fat tattletale finger jabbed at the Captain, the accusations pouring out of his mouth in a waterfall of whining, the Gryffindor couldn’t help but feel a spark of hatred towards the Ravenclaw Third Year, a deep contempt that stirred in the midsts of his stomach and beckoned for merciless release. Or, maybe it was jealousy, fear, insecurity – after all, the third year had more than proven himself dangerous, detrimental to the health and interests of the Captain. A red-flag, a flight risk, the adjective would change, but the meaning wouldn’t. For reasons the Gryffindor couldn’t begin to explain, he felt threatened by the older child’s very existence, his very presence, gaze – there were very few people who made him feel that way, few enough that he could list them on one hand. It made him angry in a way he could do little to describe, his impulses flaring up and encouraging him to take action, do something stupid, prove to the professors that he was everything Vladimir made him out to be – but nonetheless, the boy knew the rules.

You didn’t stay around for the cops.

His eyes darting about suspiciously for the unwanted gaze of a fellow student or teacher, the child threw up his hood once more, turning his back from the scene of the crime. A sight he would be, to anyone who spared his figure a glance – his hoodie, for one, had been tarnished by an assortment of small rips and burns, as well as coated by puke and slug-slime, stray blood from his leaking nose. His feet, once clad with matching Vans, were bare of clothing or protection, save for one lone sock, muddy from relentless contact with the dirty ground – and, if that weren’t enough, he was sporting a rather subtle limp, the result of his impact to the ground. Though, he supposed it would be hard to make him out as he made his escape, in the midst of all the pandemonium and darkness, a smokescreen that would likely work with him – his footsteps unsteadily began carrying him away from the teachers and his accusers, and he would shortly disappear into the mass of retreating children, away from the chaos that was the past few moments. [/font]

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Action • Leaving Thread Unless Stopped By a Professor

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