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Magical Masquerade: The entrance

Roleplaying as iNPC Quentin Gagné of Beauxbatons
English | Français
interacting: @Linda Ramirez
outfit:
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Oh! She didn't know anything about wrestling. A clean slate. Maybe he could be perfectly himself after all.

Quentin found the jumping of his stomach becoming more frantic. The people around them were spinning, all revolving around Linda in front of him. Maybe his knees were locked. He took a second to quickly stretch them out, a few exaggerated bounces up and down. No, it was still spinning.

Linda started talking about her house. The brave one. The lion one. So this girl was courageous—that was good. She would probably help him if he fainted right now. He loosened his tie. Even Scotland gets warm sometimes. Yeah, the spinning was coming from the weather. Could even be the pollen! She then told him about the house she would like to be in; it was like a slight admission. And then she smiled. Okay! Maybe it wasn't the pollen causing the spinning feeling.

"Oh, you'll have to tell me all about the lion and the snake house. I wonder which one I would be sorted into." He hoped it would be the lion house, too. Or maybe being like those in the snake house would make him even more desirable.

Upon his prompt for any guesses, she gave him hers. It was cute how she said "fleur-de-lis." And hell, he didn't know what flowers were which, even his native language. But he offered an encouraging smile back, "Lillies does sound like the right translation."

Linda then grabbed his hand. His hand. Her hand was touching his hand. Right now. This was happening. Yes, she belonged in the lion house. She was very bold. Quentin's palms started to sweat. Oh, god, wait, his palms can't sweat! She was holding his hand! His palm was a part of his hand! Maybe he was wrong, maybe she was oblivious, maybe she was very brave in the face of sweaty palms, but Linda did not immediately let go. Instead, she led him to what he supposed were lily plants. The whole walk over felt like an eternity, with a constant jolt of electricity radiating between their hands.

Unfortunately, "lillies" was not a good translation after all. The key was in some other plant, found by someone else. And it was the final key. The ball finally opened.

Quentin met Linda's eyes once again. His hand was still in hers. He hoped she would keep it there. He leaned in a bit toward her face, letting the intensity build between them. He wanted what he was going to do next to really land. He took a deep breath.

"I guess Lilly Luck was not on our side. Get it?" He smiled cheekily at her.

(His joke! He really wanted his joke to land.) A joke in English, too—Quentin by now has forgotten that he told Linda his English was not good.

Regardless of the joke's reception, if Linda's hand was still touching his, and now being in this close proximity to her, Quentin wanted to dance—just like he had seen adults do in the movies he watched with his dad. He didn't know how to dance and his knees were still weak, but that didn't stop him from dreaming.

"Shall we go in—"

His question was interrupted by a nearby commotion. Quentin tore his eyes away from the redhead in front of him to some sounds of duress. He saw another redhead yelling at her presumed date. That was normal for these types of affairs. What was weirder though, was the large group of grimacing older students the two were a part of that was not moving into the ball. What was stranger still, was the boy in the center of it all digging. Didn't he know that the key was found? Was he still looking? There was something eerie about his expression that sent a cold chill through Quentin. His palms were most certainly sweaty now, a cold sweat.

Quentin instinctively put his body in between Linda and the crowd. "What do you think that boy is doing? Does he need help?" His head was swimming again with images of dancing figures aglow in moonlight, which were juxtaposed with the sight in front of him. He was torn on which direction to go. "Or is it okay? Should we go into the ball?"
Action: doing what Linda does
stamina 14 | evasion 5 | strength 15 | wisdom 3 | arcane power 6 | accuracy 10
Calming Presence, Muggle Condition & Fearless
[Calming Presence affecting all students]
sta 15 - eva 8 - str 15 - wis 5 - arc 6 - acc 15 |||| Calming Presence - Muggle Condition - Fearless - Lovely Creature
also Della Barfield | Ruckus Weems
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
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Special thanks to Scout Fu-Hai for the lovely banner!
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Open to Interactions!
Mentioning @Emmanuel Bourne
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Thoughts: Italics

Emily walked at a snail's pace towards the Quidditch Training Pitch. Her first ball... and she was petrified. She heard the buzz floating around the Castle all month and knew a list of people who would be there and felt a little bad over the thought of not going. However, she highly underestimated what going to this thing actually meant for her.

She tugged at the hem of her purple dress, the one that "Auntie" strategically snuck into her bag right at the start of the school year well before Emily was on the train to Hogwarts. It's almost as if "Auntie" anticipated some kind of formal event that would take place over the year, no matter what it was. It felt comfortable... but Emily was not a dress person. A skirt person perhaps, but not a dress. Yet for all the formal wear she saw around her it seemed that Emily didn't have much of a choice if she were to save herself from feeling more awkward than she was right now.

She reluctantly left the pink ribbon out of the equation in her outfit, given this was a special event. A common theme for Emily to her behest. Wearing her hair down was like trying to carve blood from stone. It was impossible to get Emily to wear her hair down in public over the fuss it seemed to create every time she did it. Emily hated drawing attention to herself. She got it enough for her height, she didn't need her looks to add to it - otherwise the list of insecurities would keep growing.

On that note, she didn't even have a date to the ball. She swallowed when she saw everyone else arrive with partners linked around their arms. She did consider asking Emmanuel but decided against it in the end - Maybe balls weren't his thing? Or maybe he could do better than a girl who despite had parents who boasted parties every time they were home, she had never been to one herself.

She arrived at the venue. An oceanic display of flowers decorated the trees and the entrance. It was exceptionally beautiful. She went to open the door but it was wound shut, confusing her. That's when she spotted the note on the door:
This clue is very easy,
Though the flowers might make you quite queasy.
Toot-toot goes the car,
And so does this flower.
A riddle...?

That seemed to lift Emily's spirits a little. She liked a challenge. With the display of flowers as her hint, the answer seemed relatively clear too.

She peered over the bushes littered with the Honking Daffodils and dug through them gently. They nuzzled along her arms as they futilely tried to chase her touch away.

Excuse my fingers, little guys... Ah...! Pardon me...

As ridiculous as this must look from someone else's perspective Emily couldn't help but giggle as the Daffodils as they kept intertwining between her hands.

Maybe playing with flowers could shake a nerve or two rather than running straight into this ball...

However after another few minutes of searching she finally found the key... a few clicks away from where she thought it would be. Picking it up and dusting herself off, she took a deep breath and went over to open the door.

Your first party, Emily...

Word Count: 607
Action: Searching the Honking Daffodils before eventually finding the Key
Stats: Stamina: 6|Evasion: 5|Strength: 6|Wisdom: 7|Arcane Power: 5|Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast
Last edited by Emily Shephard on 4 May 2024, 19:08, edited 1 time in total.
Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
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RPing as Zophyr Qethnis from Uagadou
Genderfluid, pronouns at the moment: she/her
☽ Kirundi | French | English | Swahili | Arabic | Tswana | Xhosa ☾
Date: April 13 2024
Time: evening
Interacting with: @Theo Vendeburg
Mentioning: everyone mentioned below, along with Bex, Finnegan and those nearby
Zophyr had been expecting her assumptions to serve her well, but maybe not this well. Assuming a kid liked school just because they acted introverted was perhaps not the best or smartest of things to do, but it seemed Theo had been exactly the kind of person Zophyr had guessed. After some more flighty responses - a "hm" for the snakes, and a question back at the Uagadou student's own - his eyes lit up immediately when she mentioned studies. She only nodded when he asked if she was from another institution (with a very, very slight grimace at the word - she felt like a giant school inside a mountain wasn't very institution-like).

But now he was talking. A lot. She could barely tell if she was actually talking to the same person anymore. And the thing was, she had to admit she was actually interested in what he had to say. Zophyr couldn't say school was at the top of her favorites list, but there were a good few things she rather loved learning about. Theo having chosen potions as his favorite couldn't help but make her grin. She adored collecting things, and had quite the multitude of potions ingredients, ready to be used in her Kuchanganya Viungo classes - the Uagadou equivalent of potions and alchemy.

The other type of magic Theo mentioned was transfiguration. "That's a... class?" Zophyr had to inquire, confused. "In my school, it's incorporated in most of our other lessons, but it's not... a class on its own. That's interesting." Then again, at Uagadou, animagi were a common sight, as was wandless magic, so of course there was bound to be differences in classes as well. "Good luck with that," she responded with a small smile at his aspiration to become an animagus himself. She had no desire to do so, but perhaps that might change with time. Many of her friends did.

Most surprising of all, even more so than his sudden interest in their conversation, was his sudden interest in her. She had not been expecting to be asked anything about herself at all, considering how closed off he had been at the beginning. But she was pleasantly surprised. "I'm Zophyr, she/her pronouns for now. They change sometimes, I'm genderfluid. And as for my story..." She wasn't too sure what to say to that. "I'm from Uagadou, in Uganda. Second year. And I'd have to say my favorite class is Kuangalia Nyota. The study of stars. You call it, er... Astronomy, I think? I think it's immensely interesting how vast the universe is, how small we are compared to it, even with our magic." She wasn't sure how to continue, but she was saved from having to by Theo, as he... started storming away?

Zophyr had been so entranced in the fact that he was speaking that she'd completely forgotten to keep an eye out for chaos. They'd gotten so close to the entrance, but now Theo had turned around and ran off, getting mad at some older years. Because one of them was... digging?
This looked like chaos. This looked like confusion. This looked interesting. Zophyr had to find out what was going on.

She approached slowly, joining the already growing crowd around the boy who was tearing up the dirt. Enough people had said his name, concerned, that Zophyr had caught it by then. @Jack Warren But that didn't mean she understood anything else. Theo had started yelling at the boy, but after seemingly realizing how big the power difference was between him and the older years, he skulked back next to her. A boy was blamed, though he said he knew nothing. @Vladimir Athanatos Some younger students tried to approach, though the digging boy looked... dangerous. Almost inhuman. There were already questions firing, so Zophyr didn't need to add to them.

But, weirdly. Her confidence levels had suddenly dropped. She'd come here looking for chaos, but now that she'd found it, it was scaring her. She wasn't supposed to be scared. She was supposed to be exhilerated; this was supposed to be exciting. Yet all she could get herself to do was ask, "What's... happening?" in a language no one there would probably understand. Had her fear left space for other feelings, she would have been ashamed of herself. She was supposed to be brave.
Actions: talking to Theo, approaching Jack and company, getting completely distracted from entering the ball
Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 9 | Strength: 8 | Wisdom: 5 | Arcane power: 5 | Accuracy: 6
Cat's Grace | Broken Broomshaft
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🕮 Mahlioz Evethisawe | mors vincit omnia | Zophyr Qethnis ☾
The Artist's Corner
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
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OPEN FOR INTERACTION

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— There was something decidedly charming about the young witch. The way she seemed to rock onto her heels at the notion of delivering her surname, as though nobody had ever introduced themselves or requested a return introduction in a civilized fashion, amused Evelynn. A brow had arched, the faintest smile turning up the corners of her lips as Miss Lark delivered her name, almost questioningly. Of course, that had lasted only so long, pleasantries and casual conversation having given way to the chaos that was bound to break out sooner or later at such a function. Poor Bex. Much of the following conversation had gone over her head, not enough time to go into the details, and Evelynn too acutely fixed on the important issues—and people—before them to take notice that much of what she had said had not found purchase within the minds of the ignorant and unaware. Nevertheless, she had still attempted to do her best to hastily answer the few questions that had arisen.

"Who lied?" — "The Daily Prophet, but we cannot be certain they actually did." @Rebecca Lark

"About what?" — "Athanatos-" As Dralt had done before, she had nudged her chin in the direction of the pale boy. "-being dead."

"What's this about this bloke being dead?" — "They printed a column on his death two years ago." @Aly Salinger

"He looks perfectly alive to me." — "Perfectly is not quite how I would put it, but he is certainly vertical."

"And who, exactly, are we looking out for?" — "Davenport. Marion Davenport. A hag in the guise of a Slytherin student."

"They're so loud." — "Who is so loud...?"

The question had been delivered reflexively just before realization had settled that the question she was answering was to a voice that did not belong to any of the other three with whom she was conversing. Evelynn's mouth shut tightly, body stiffening. She had almost forgotten. Where once it was a rare thing for the lioness to miss an opportunity to display the latest fashion at a gathering, a bit she had adopted during her stint as the Fashion Journalist with the Headliner, she had come to abhor crowds. They were so loud. It wasn't just the speech and the gossip and the close proximity of students. That she could contend with. That she almost relished in, affording her the opportunity to easily eavesdrop in on conversations for snippets of information that could prove useful in one way or another down the line.

No, it was the mental onslaught. The voices that would barge into her mind at the most inopportune times, drowning out her own thoughts and occasionally making it impossible to carry on a conversation. It made even just existing in dense collections of pupils a challenge at times, impossible at others. But every now and then, like tonight, she would be blessed with unusual silence. This was the first that had slipped into her awareness, at least, since her arrival at the ball. And she knew that voice. Its invasion of her mind, sounding so very, very near, as though the speaker was whispering near enough that she ought to have been able to feel the warmth—or its absence—of his breath against her neck, left her distinctly unsettled. Her attention had snapped in the direction of Athanatos, little hairs on the back of her neck standing on end even as a fresh wave of goosebumps flew across her skin like banners waving hundreds of flags of distress and warning.

Somewhere nearby, her companions were still speaking, but she could not make out what they were saying. As though they were ten feet under water, the noise melded together, warped and unintelligible. He was tired. Something about the way he'd broadcast that lamentation left Evelynn with the distinct impression that he was resolved to a torment he knew existed but could not dampen. Not unlike her own reticence with gatherings. "Why can't they be quiet? It hurts." His voice again. His words again. But they could very well have been her own for how many times she had silently uttered that same complaint during class, during meals, while waiting to board the train or at sports events.

It was when emotions were highest that thoughts seemed to spill most loudly. And while the chatter around them certainly existed, she would not have said it was unbearably loud. Apart form the occasional howler, there had been nothing, really, that prevented her from being able to hear herself think. The intrusive thoughts of others, however.... The same could not be said there. Eyes narrowed faintly, curiousity sparked where before there had been only abhorrent suspicion. Was he like her? Could he hear them as well? Were she not so rooted to the spot, instinct ranking high above any rational thought, her guard still very much erected and survival sense still strong particularly given the sense of dread that seemed to waft through their vicinity, she might have found herself drawn to him, compelled to inquire on the matter. Another time, perhaps..? @Vladimir Athanatos

"Wh- why would I let anyone kiss me?" Delayed, as though the question had been waiting for its opportunity to properly transmit, Evelynn responded, "...slugs." It was hardly an answer, and not even a correct one at that, and nowhere near the articulation this lioness generally employed, slow and spoken as though from a trance.

Had there been any doubt about whether she was simply overhearing the boy from a distance, or hearing his internal monologue, it was put to rest with the fact that his lips had not moved to coincide with the words. Words that were very much his, of that she was certain. But she would find herself staggered, slightly, as sentiments took on an otherwordly sort of characteristic. Within moments, Evelynn became drowned by a sea of whispered names that overlapped each other, some father, some nearer. Above them all, though, Davenport, the intonation familiar enough that she couldn't quite be certain if it wasn't her own thoughts voiced loudly above the rest. But it was warped, shattering. The name echoed and repeated, as though it reverberated against her very eardrums, leaving no room for attention to anything else.

She didn't see as Salinger subtly removed her wand, tucking it inconspicuously within the folds of her voluminous skirt. She didn't hear Dralt suggest that the little bird stick with the flock instead of flying off to find fun elsewhere in the ball, though Evelynn certainly would have approved. Nor did she hear the Lark's timid acquiescence or the announcement that the last clue had been found, the long awaited opening of the gates following the finding of the key. She didn't see as the little bird fluttered away from her protectors, nor her call out to Warren. She didn't see the way that Meenauh stood in the center of the area, confused and rebuffed, seeking answers for the sudden change in her date's behaviour. She simply didn't see. Her eyes were only for the Athanatos son, lips slightly parted, head faintly inclined with the captivation of her mind and resulting far-off, unfocused sort of fixation.

And then she seemed to stop breathing.

Everything around her dimmed. The students, their gorgeous adornments, the arching trees and floating lights and abundance of colourful flower beds... it all faded to black. In their place, she saw Davenport, beautiful and deadly as ever she had seen her, and yet different. Whenever Evelynn had previously seen her, even in the midst of chasing after her into the forbidden forest alongside Lestrange and Martin and Collins, she had been composed, devious, her features ever encompassing a look that suggested she enjoyed toying with her food. This... This was different. It was like whoever she faced ignited a sense of malice, perhaps even fear manifesting as such, provoked by being cornered. There was nothing composed about her or the way she sneered at Evelynn. Or rather the individual whose eyes served as windows to the moment parsed from time.

Then a hand reached out towards her. Gloved, and carrying a wand. A flash, a spell. Davenport frozen in place, unable to react. Evelynn could not have expected the appearance of the corresponding gloved hand, drawn into a fist that smashed into her, shattering her into a thousands bloody little pieces. Colour drained from Evelynn's face where she stood, dropping to the ground where only she saw the pooling of crimson liquid and dispersed pieces of flesh where frigid shard melted into the remnants of what had been a living breathing being only moments before.

As though having taken a strike to the gut, Evelynn had doubled over, skirt billowing briefly around her legs as knees buckled and the ground came rushing up to meet her. She didn't faint, didn't fall entirely prone, but neither would she be looking particularly well to any onlookers. Pallor clung to her features, her skin cool and clammy. Her hands had disappeared within the folded fabric where they'd caught reflexively to break her fall. The images continued to play out in her mind with vivid clarity, sending a tremulous shiver through her limbs and threatening to overturn her stomach. Perhaps it was good they hadn't yet been able to eat. There was nothing to heave, though that didn't stop her body from trying, shoulders rolling once or twice with an uncontrollable dry heave.

Gradually, the scene would fade, floor replaced with grass, blood and gore fading from view to be replaced by scattered petals and flower heads, gloves disappearing as her own hands came back into view. Breath caught up to her in a gasp, chest rising and falling quickly immediately after as though she had just run a mile and trying to catch her breath. A heavy fog continued to linger over her mind, pressure exerting itself almost to the point of painful as she started to reorient, blinking several times in quick succession. Teeth chattered shut, chin lifting as breaths regulated, the fifth-year's vision still swimming as she stared ahead, grounding herself.

She swallowed, shakily rising to her feet, and trying—likely unsuccessfully—to be suave about it and avoid as much notice as possible, a feat that may have been possibly only because of the surrounding commotions that may have been serving as sufficient distraction. It had been a long time since she'd seen something quite that significant, the last being during the Summer of 2022 when she was overcome by the vision of a swarm of large black shadowed crawling spiders. Then had been frightening. This, however, was something else. Visceral. The spiders had only revealed themselves as a snapshot. Now, it felt like she had lived through the situation. Like she was the one to have killed her. "She is gone. She is gone. Oh god, she is gone," again came the voice of Athanatos, in seeming desperation.

"What did you do to Jack, dead man?!" @Meenauh Silmataurea

The shouted accusation served as the last string to pull Evelynn fully back to the moment, head snapping in the direction of where it had come from just in time to see Miss Silmataurea pull her wand on Athanatos, its tip towards his neck. Alptraum was there as well, the boy peering almost hopefully in her direction, hands rising slowly in surrender. Jack? A vague recollection tugged at her mind, as though she had heard someone call out to him before, and it occurred to her only in that moment that he was not with her. Confusion rippled through her, compounded in spades by the sudden realization that her companions were no longer with her. Panic briefly choked her.

How much time had passed? It had felt like only seconds, but there was no way that everyone could have dispersed so quickly. Fear of further loss gripped at her in that moment of uncertainty, fabric twisting in on itself as she spun on the spot, wide-eyed gaze searching desperately for their whereabouts and mind working slowly, too slowly, as it continued to try to recover from what had just happened and fit the missing pieces back together. Although she briefly acknowledged Miss Lark with some hooded boy, it was Dralt leaning in towards a hunched Warren that struck the bell of alarm. @Jack Warren

Muscle rippled beneath the Hufflepuff's chemise, easily visible through its sheer fabric. Broad, striated muscle. Muscle that, by the way it flexed and contracted exactly in tandem as he was digging, looked as though it had been built exactly for this purpose. As though this weren't the first time he had dropped to the earth in this pursuit. As though this were only one of many. Mud and clay caked his hands, made clearer as steps carried Evelynn almost phantom-like towards them. What was he doing? Curiousity existed, naturally, but heavily out-weighed by the alarm Silmataurea had exhibited, and the way he seemed to disregard any kind of external interaction. Dralt had called out to him. This was entirely counter to the performance he had been putting on with his arrival. Digging was counter to the peacocking he had been doing, especially with consideration to the way he'd turned up his nose at the idea of looking through flower beds, which was nothing compared to this.

There was something wrong. Very wrong.

"Dralt...." His name barely managed to pass her lips, her throat dry, lips parched. An airy utterance, it might have passed as a stage whisper, dread creeping ever more steadily into her core. She didn't like how close he had gotten, not with the way Warren was acting. Memory struck again as she was reminded of their recent interaction where he'd enlightened her about the monstrosity they'd found in the forest only recently. Warren was another one who, like Lestrange and Holmwood, seemed to be firmly entrenched in mysterious goings-on. The sort to go looking for trouble. Her instincts were screaming at her for caution. @Pericles Dralt

"Pericles..." A pale hand raised to reach out towards the boy, its owner intent to sort out the situation with words and diplomacy and a kind touch. All Evelynn saw was the reaching of a hand towards a territorial dog with a bone. Digging. Digging. To uncover? Or to bury? Cold washed over her in waves that would not cease. Again, she was reminded of the dungeons below the school. The catacombs they'd found with bits of hair, and scratches on the inside, as though someone had been trapped within before being freed. Of places where bones could be stashed and craftsman workshops had been built to create all manner of wicked monstrosities. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all.

"PERI DON'T!" Her words held a sharp edge to them, fear manifesting as anger. Despite the brief disorientation, she had not forgotten the warning she had given. Watch for anyone acting oddly. Warren was acting oddly. Dralt should know better. What was he thinking getting close? The Eagle was supposed to the skies, to circle and observe. He'd gone mental.

Wand in hand, the lioness rushed forward, nearly eating dirt as her boot caught the edge of her hem before sense had her gathering the fabric in her free hand. At least until she was close enough. She didn't want to cast at Warren. Not until she knew what in the seven hells was going on. But she would be damned if she didn't try to pull Dralt back to a safe distance before figuring that out. Whether by the collar of his jacket, his elbow, or just his hand, it didn't matter. She would grab whatever was most easily in reach and gather all of her nonexistent strength to coax his retreat.		 —
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Action: Seeing Vladimir's thoughts, reorienting, drawing wand, running towards Pericles to try to pull him away from Jack

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 —
----Plot Hook — Evelynn has wandmaker [Wampus Hair].
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You may choose for your character to accidentally share a random thought, phrase or memory telepathically ONCE PER THREAD (per character). This may occur during direct interaction, or just in proximity without your character ICly even realizing that Evelynn is there. If you do choose to take advantage of this ability, please make it clear in your post and DM me! I would be honoured, and absolutely will reach out to follow up with these as plot hooks for future RP with you.
----
Last edited by Evelynn Decipio on 2 May 2024, 02:50, edited 2 times in total.
ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: Owen Lochridge | Margarethe Fransson | Dottie Dunlot [comc professor]
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
Crumbled in shameful defeat. His grandchildren were going to be feeling that. A looming shadow would return, the skirt fuller, the dress somehow pinker, it was truly mad that he had mistaken that violent imposter for @Winnie Harper.

"Are you okay?" His angel of mercy would would help him to his feet. The brawny lass could rightfully curl him he reckoned. He let out a nervous laugh, brushing the soil and grass from his pants and torso, the grass stains somewhat distressing.

Evelynn's wand heard more than Vladimir's inner madness and secret turmoil. Petty gripes would also filter through the air and pass through the wampus hair core, conduit to Eve's awareness. Damned wretch he silently mused as he watched the girl storm away. She better hope that her parents are already unemployed.

Not that he had any time to think about the damned prude as she stormed away. He had to deal with the ramifications of his screw up. He thought he had it in the bag - red hair + pink = Winnie. Why did this discount Winnie have to confuse him and then to add insult to injury or rather injury to insult. He told Winnie she looked lovely, that was usually enough to make her happy.

"It seems I'm not the only one you thought looked lovely this evening."

"No," he debated with nothing to really substantiate his argument. If he said he thought she was hideous, and mistook this girl for Winnie, then he would be accused of thinking she was hideous as well. If he said she was hot, he would die. "I thought she was you," he decided to fly somewhere in the middle. It is not my fault you all look alike. He internally blamed the girl.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?! Maybe I should just go into the ball alone so you can have some nice alone time with your new girlfriend?"

She was mad again. He sighed, "Babe. You know that you don't want that. Look I'm" probably "sorry. I was confused. I was an absolute cad, but..." there was always a but, "you have such an iconic look." Yes, he was absolutely blaming this on her. "I did not think twice when I saw the pink ballgown and the long red hair. But, I forgive you." Such a magnanimous man.

While all of this was happening, there was something strange happening stage left. His cousin Vlad was embarrassing himself yet again. He was just thankful that he did not have a role to play on this night. He had no want to be drawn into Vladimir's next desperate act of stupidity. He really did understand Jürgen's irritation and unwillingness to attend social events. It seemed that Vladimir was creating new problems by just existing. Should have stayed dead dead man.
Thoughts for the single post of thoughts being heard for Eve's wand italic olive colored.
Event NPC
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
Oooh, he found something.

Giddy was no here for the girls or the boys. He had no interest in kissing or hugging or hand holding. He knew how nasty these Hogwarts students were. How they hurt one another, how they hurt themselves. How they loved pain. Chased it. Gripped hood of it because pain was what made them more than a bag of worthless flesh. It made them interesting. They were the types that wanted their parents to divorce so they had something to talk about because they were so uninteresting on their own.

Gripping his stuffy in both hands in front of him, he peered into the pit Jack was digging. There was a wall forming between him and the the excavator. Giddy had been a silent enabler for going on two years now. The grounds would be pockmarked by dawn each morning and Giddy would have to meander from his bed, begging his elder dormates for help with mundane morning tasks so that he could complete his morning rituals faster than most. He would then take his beloved stuffy whose name had changed several times over these past two years because it was a bloody farce and rush outside to take [insert name] for a walk in the sun, or the rain or the snow and he would attempt to sus out whatever damage Jack Warren, fellow Hufflepuff had inflicted.

Jack was compelled to dig. Giddy was entrusted to collecting. A collector with no thoughts for Eve. (Exposition is only once per day for the wampus hair core until each character has spoken once.) His collection had filled his most personal, private places or more specifically his oversized stuffy bear for transport and for long-term storage probably @George Henry's bed.

The lady had a plan and he had a part to play. The only problem, Jack was digging far too early and there were too many witnesses. He needed to get to what Jack had uncovered one way or another. His bear rattled as he shifted where he stood and he approached a rather unfortunate underclassman, @Finnegan Connor. The boy, for whatever reason wanted to be involved in MS threads. It was for that reason he had to die.

Giddy would head for the first year. The first year was likely the same size as the Hufflepuff, perhaps taller or heavier but despite any physical comparison, this was not a fair fight. Giddy would run up to Finnegan shouting the wrong name "Georgie!" and attempt to embrace the obviously wrong student. The point never to express affection but rather to unsettle the youth so that he could draw a knife unseen and plunge it into Finnegan's gut.
Action: Attempting to stab Finnegan
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
WHY, CRUEL WORLD
or
THE SOLE REASON I AM HERE IS TO APPEASE MY WRITER
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Of all the ways Fate could have twisted her strings and woven the future, she simply had to splurge on the Black Thread of Misfortune in Astra's tapestry.

The child, heart hammering far to hard and far too loud and everything altogether too bright and loud and dull and muffled all at once, stared out at the people before her. The Hawk (or, rather, the Moon), the Digger, the Stars, the Sun. Bex. Finnegan. The Dead Man. Xailah. The Queen.

Through whatever force seized her mental capabilities (hint: panic attack), she had enough wit about her to discern some of what was going on. The Digger, firstly. She'd met him before, once, strange and brutish but never so unsophisticated then as to make what was happening now seem normal. This was classified as Oddity the First. The crown stop his masked head would draw Astra's attention to the Digger King's Queen, the Dead Man, and Xailah.

Too far away to make out any conversation, if she had to guess, Astra would suppose the dead man was... flirting? with Xailah Alptraum. The Queen was obviously threatening him, something likely to do with her King's behavior.

Xailah and the Queen could both easily hold their own against the Dead Man, but Astra's already increased heartbeat nearly tripled as Bex made to move closer to Jack. The Hawk was there, and hadn't he saved the snakelet before? Hadn't he proved himself trustworthy in these sorts of circumstances?

Hadn't he?

She didn't remember. She didn't remember who was who and what was what or even what bloody happened October 6th.

Her knuckles turned even whiter as her pale skin stretched over the joints. Felix surely could not slip now, wiggling in discomfort as he was.

She squeezed her eyes shut, for a moment, a second-

Never had a second been so long. The scene assaulting her eyes shifted violently, horribly, as soon as they opened. The Sun lunged towards the moon, a cry of "PERI DON'T" piercing the air, and Finnegan- as mixed and mostly negative her feelings on the boy were, another Oddity was upon him and Astra knew it spelled doom.

Afterwards, she would call it loyalty to her rival turned friend. Afterwards, she would say she was out of her mind.

Fate had put her Black Thread and her Scissors in Astra's hand, and, against every logical part of her mind, her fight instinct had knocked the Scissors away and pulled the Thread taut. Astra Norrick would be brave this time.

Astra Norrick would not be the victim this time.

She let go of Felix. She began to sprint.

It admittedly didn't make a lot of sense; the strange looking, childish boy had only called Finnegan by the wrong name. It wasn't the most horrible of crimes.

But something was dreadfully wrong. Something was always dreadfully wrong.

The boy seemed to calculate his movements a little too much to be what he wanted to portray. Stupid facade, but certainly not dumb. That teddy bear was more a mark of insanity than of helplessness.

Could she be overly suspicious? Yes, one hundred percent. But her intuition was blaring, and hardly ever wrong. Ok, maybe it was wrong a lot, but it was right when it counted most!

She slammed into the golden-clad boy full force, all seventy-five pounds. Some small corner of her mind cheered her on as the rest screamed turn back. She only hoped she'd made the right choice.

∆

action : trying to tackle @Gideon Athanatos away from @Finnegan Conner
stats : sta • 6 | eva • 5 | str • 5 | wis • 6 | arc • 6 | acc • 7
abilities : prodigal charms learner (can learn charms a year in advance)
mentions : @Pericles Dralt, @Jack Warren, @Aly Salinger, @Evelynn Decipio, @Rebecca Lark, @Vladimir Athanatos, @Meenauh Silmataurea
A.N.
Almost dead yesterday, maybe dead tomorrow, but alive, gloriously alive today
E.T.
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
Image posted by the member
POST TRACKER
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Reducio
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OUTFIT
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Reducio
Image posted by the member
TAGS & MENTIONS
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@Leaf Shard as
Irya Volkov
Élodie nodded at what Irya was saying about the school, giggling as he mentioned that interesting was one way to put it. It was nice to know that they both admired the architecture though. Élodie had never seen such a school or building with as stunning architecture as Hogwarts had. It was quite impressive.

As the howler screeched out the clue, she heard Irya curse in his home language, causing Élodie to laugh softly as she led him to the lilies, sure that that was where the clue was trying to lead them to. As they walked, she heard Irya ask her questions about France and what it was like.

"Well, France is the prettiest place I've been in, though there might be some bias there." She smiled softly, "I'm from Marseille, which is a port city, so there are lots of boats around. The water is quite blue there and I do love the beaches." she spoke, her tone almost wistful as she talked about her home, wishing she could be closer to the place she grew up. "Other parts of France, like the countryside, are quite beautiful too. I think everything has its little factor that makes it incredible." She then paused for a minute before asking her question. "What about Russia? The only thing I know is that it's quite cold, as you mentioned." As they arrived at the lilies and began to search, she awaited Irya's response, curious to get an idea about where he lived.

Soon enough, she'd finished her quick search of the plant, looking around to see if anyone else had any luck at searching their bush. Élodie sighed seeing as no one had any luck until a girl over by a completely different flower, the irises, found the key! Élodie cursed at herself in French for not thinking about the bigger picture of the riddle. She watched as the key flew over to the doors of the ball, the key sliding in though the keyhole and turning itself, unlocking the doors.

Nevertheless, Élodie looked over at Irya. not spending too much time dwelling on the failure of her deciphering of the riddle. Sure, fleur-de-lis was a direct translation talking about lilies, but she could understand how irises could be more resembling. "Shall we?" she asked Irya, excited to head on to the first ever spring ball she'd ever attend.
Action: Watching as people go into the ball & chatting with Irya.
Stats: STA 6 / EVA 5/ STR 5 / WIS 8/ ARC 4/ ACC 7
Ency: Right Here!
Abilities: None Yet
Danielle Alden
STA 7 ❀ EVA 8 ❀ STR 7
Élodie Dubois
The Boutique
WIS 6 ❀ ARC 5 ❀ ACC 7
Lovely Creature
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
Image posted by the member
Wearing:
Reducio
Image posted by the member
The ball was open. The partially blind Hufflepuff only realized this fact as the throng of students searching for the entrace began to push passed her and into the next area. She allowed herself to be carried along with them. Not for the first time, Nellie was seriously regretting her aesthetic based choice of leaving her glasses in her dorm. Everyone's looks had been the draw for her for the evening, and yet, thanks to her vision, everything was an amorphous blur. The only thing she could truly see clearly was the color's of the gown, suits, and surroudings. Again she considered turning back. After all, she had worn sneakers rather than heels. It wouldn't be that much of a pain.

But she didn't get that chance. Her vision betrayed her as she ran directly into the back of someone in front of her. All she could really make out was a big purple blob. It was a pretty color. Nellie might have even been standing on he girl's skirt, but she honestly wasn't sure. "Oh my, God! I am so sorry." Reflexively, her hands moved to steady the girl in case she'd thrown off her balance. "Are you ok?" Her cheeks were bright pink from embarrassment as she attempted to asses the situation.
@Reyna Evergreen
Every interaction, no matter how brief, holds the potential for something great.
Stamina 6 | Evasion 6 | Strength 4 | Wisdom 8 | Arcane Power 5 | Accuracy 6
Calming Presence
Magical Masquerade: The entrance
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"Well, France is the prettiest place I've been in, though there might be some ----- there." Irya nodded, listening intently to Élodie talking about her home country. Maybe some day he would visit. "I do love the beaches." He smiled; He'd never been to a beach before.

After a while, she asked him about Russia, to which Irya thought back to his life in Kazan, where the Volga and Kazanka rivers met and the place where he had spent his entire childhood. "It's beautiful, really. No beaches, but some of the buildings are truly incredible. We have huge forests as well. And there's snow. A lot of snow." Sighing, he quickly scanned the bushes without finding anything, then turned as a girl searching the irises found a key and the ball doors opened.

Irya glanced at Élodie as to ask why the key wasn't in the lilies as she'd guessed, but soon shrugged it off when he saw the slightest bit of frustration in her eyes. "Shall we?" He bowed his head as a sign of agreement and started towards the ball entrance to begin the actual ball.

People had already started flocking at the doors eagerly - Irya quickly joined them and tried to look over the heads of some older students to get a first glimpse of what this school had prepared for the visitors. I hope there's food. His stomach growled in agreement.

"Um... Élodie? I forgot to mention, but your dress looks beautiful." He meant it - the amount of effort that must have gone into making it couldn't go without compliment. He studied his own outfit. Much better than mine.
Mentions: @Danielle Alden as Élodie Dubois
Word Count: 275
Action: Entering the ball and chatting with Élodie
Stats: Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 5 | Strength: 6 | Wisdom: 3 | Arcane power: 5 | Accuracy: 8
Abilities: n/a
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Leaf Shard ☆ Irya Volkov
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