Gala of Mysteries Fall Ball

Mentioning @Aamon Athanatos ♥ ♥ ♥♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ Date & Time: 19th October
Metamorphmagus: Not Active ♥ ♥♥♥ ♥ Outfit: 60s Reporter (Long Skirt, Blouse, Glasses, Flats, Camera Bag, Hat with Flower)

♥♥♥ Xiomara had no clue what the dress code meant until she wrote home to ask about it. Her grandmother loved helping out and she quickly ended up making it a feature of one of the Headliner articles that she had recently submitted to the publication. She wrote about some movies and ideas of what people could use as inspiration but did not include too many details of specific items at the time, since it could vary from person to person.

She opted to try and go for a reporter look, trying to emulate what female reporters might have worn in the time - smart clothes. She had no idea what that meant but when she wrote another letter home to tell her family that someone had asked her to go with him, her mother was keen to get involved. Her mother sent her some clothing, a pair of fake glasses and a hat to go with her outfit. The fake glasses were simply part of the reporter look and she paired it with her camera bag that worked like a satchel, with a notepad and pen tucked into it so it looked even more the part. The clothes she wore was a black blouse that was tied at the hemline of her long plain skirt that went to her shins. Whilst clean, the clothes were very simple and looked a little old. They had been sent from her grandmother's wardrobe, who had sewn in the sides to tailor it to Xiomara's frame a bit. The outfit was likely as vintage as it looked, rather than being new but she loved it and was thrilled her gran had put in the effort to make it fit her.

She was far too young to wear heels, even though her mother had asked if she wanted some, so she chose a simple pair of black flats. Xiomara did not wear any make-up, even though her mother had sent her a little, since she had no idea how to apply it but did wear a black headband that kept her otherwise loose wavy hair off her face under her hat and painted her nails white in an attempt to look a little fancy for the occasion. This was her first ball at Hogwarts, so she had no idea how fancy people dressed but this was the best she could do. Her date always seemed to be well-dressed though so she was a little worried that he would judge her for her old clothes but they were clean!

To make a bit of extra effort, she put a little bunch of wildflowers - from the bouquet he gave her - into her hat and pinned it into place so it added an accent to the otherwise simple hat. Xiomara stood towards the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for Aamon, who she had decided to meet just outside since she had no idea where his dorms were and hers were far too high of a climb to meet him up there. No one needed to do that trek - heck, she did not enjoy that trek herself! She rocked on her heels, back and forth as she waited for him - and hoped he did show up. However, there were supposedly other areas where the ball was taking place too... She had no idea which one he was going to go to but she figured if she waited here, she might see him.

Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 4 | Wisdom: 5 | Arcane Power: 1 | Accuracy: 6
Race | Abilities: Metamorphmagus | Minor Appearance Shift/Skilled Transfigurer
Items: Wizard Camera, Notebook and Pen

ACTION: Entering the Ball, waiting for date.

Thirty seconds in and this gala was already turning out a lot better for sixth-year Aly Salinger than the previous one last spring. After all, at least this time she'd actually made it to the gala itself, rather than getting into a giant free-for-all fight outside the gates and leaving before even getting to step a single heeled foot upon the dance floor. And she was early - perhaps the first elder year in attendance, she noted as she glanced around during her entrance, her keen eyes on careful watch for scarlet curls or moonlike pompadour. Of course, she would have very different reactions to the former versus the latter, but luckily, it didn't seem that either were in attendance.

Aly heaved a sigh, half of relief and half of frustration, as she stepped into the Great Hall, which had been decorated in great detail for the occasion. Her green gaze roamed over the ornate golden filigree on the walls and ceiling, the classified files on the tables, the checkered dance-floor that reminded her very much of an event she herself had thrown over the summer, and the food table of course, with that three-tiered cake that made her mouth water just at the sight... but the young Ravenclaw shook her head to clear it. No - as much as she wanted to grab a slice, she couldn't just linger around the food table and wait for people to show up so that she could, then, keep an eye on them and thusly avoid them. In order to truly keep her ball experience as peaceful as possible, she had to keep moving and get as deep into the fray as possible. It would make for good camouflage.

That wasn't to say, though, that she wouldn't be making a stop by the refreshments later. As she swanned past them, the stiletto heels of her dark brown sandals clicking on the tiled floor below and avoiding stepping in those disgusting dark splatters that looked distinctly like someone had dragged something large and heavy through them, Aly's hand snuck into the right-side pocket of her dress - hidden beneath layers and layers of fluffy sepia tulle - to ensure that the three possessions she had placed there before arriving were still on her person. Warm fingers felt the cold glass of a vial, the worn surface of her aspen-wood wand, and... another bit of cold and wood, though this one was much sharper than the other three. The wand was standard, of course, but Aly had taken it upon herself to bring some other bits of protection to this gala, after what had happened last time. She had picked up a locksmith's knife in Hogsmeade during the first weekend there of the school year, partially due to its adeptness in picking locks but also because it would not be the first knife to make an appearance at a school ball. If someone was going to come at her friends with a blade again, Aly would sure as hell have one of her own with which to defend them.

As for the potion, well... that was a different kind of defence. One which Aly would need when she spotted that tell-tale heart red head of ringlets, later in the ball. This plan had been in the making for two months, and the gala was the perfect place for it all to go down - to make sure that Aly hadn't been... otherwise convinced into catching feelings like one caught scrofungulus. But she digressed. That was for later in the ball, when she'd worked up the courage and when a certain Gryffindor made her appearance. For now, she kept moving.

Aly made it to the other side of the room and slipped out one of the doors, heading for a different event in the courtyard; before she left, though, the dame paused and took one last look back at the antique Great Hall. Satisfied that she had not been followed, and that she was making the correct decision in leaving, our resident star turned and vanished through the door, steeling herself for an a-maze-ing time elsewhere...

You never quite knew how a dress was going to land until the event. Until then, it was basically still an idea: a sketch, a drape, a first sew. Trims could be added. Taffeta could be rearranged. Hems could be lengthened or shortened. It was in many ways, the greatest artifice.

Here, in what could be construed as a costume ball, that felt even more true. And Maisie felt confident in what her mother and herself had dreamed up. In many ways, even attending something like a Hogwarts ball felt like a fantasy. How surreal it was to be here in this hall. In her navy blue 1940s-inspired dress, Maisie felt, in many ways, completely out of her league. But her parents had been here and her grandmother. So, she should be here too. She just had to believe it.

Stepping to the vast hall, she found the tables had been left to the sides, opening the floor up in grandeur. Maisie's eye was quickly drawn to the food—a plethora of all kinds of sweet food, especially a layered cake at the center. The menagerie did seem distinctly American in its vintage, but she could pass that. Her hand reached across for one of the Space Foods, but instead grabbed the accompanying note. Inspired by her mother's patterns, she'd always enjoyed history and learning how objects—or food—fit into the wider story of the world.

Perhaps it was silly, but she stood off to the side for a little while nearby and just read. She'd put that note down and take another. She should be eating or dancing or twirling this silk dress.

But Maisie just read.

Action: Reading about the history of various space foods.
Open to interactions
Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 2 | Wisdom: 7 | Arcane Power: 4 | Accuracy: 8

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The ball!! Oakleigh was so excited. She had found a dress she liked. It was a black one that fit the sixty's sock-hop theme. She had to make it her own however. She sewed her own little pink flowers on the hem of the dress. She had her fair share of accessories, all of them being a pink colour. She knew the ball was Noir themed, but she had to wear some pink. Her hair was neatly placed in a messy braided bun. How she managed to do it was a shock to her.

Her Mary Jane's clicked against the floor as she took a glance at the great hall. It had been transformed into a beautiful ball! The obvious 'punch' smears and splatters made her confused, but she didn't want to focus on that. She went over to the snack table, looking over the food items. Spam caught her eye.

Specialty Processed American meat.

A wonderful name for something people were trying to market.

She grabbed a plate and a slice, munching away. She poked at it with a fork for a moment. The colour was not appealing. People actually ate this stuff? Well, she knew her father does, but he was weird, so she didn't count him. It didn't taste the best, but it also didn't taste the worst. It was tolerable.

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Notes: Reducio STATS | stamina ◦ 6 | evasion ◦ 7 | strength ◦ 5 | wisdom ◦ 7 | arcane power ◦ 5 | accuracy ◦ 5 None As of Action wise /reducio]

Date: Reducio Oct 19th, 2024

Mentions: Reducio OPEN FOR INTERACTIONS

word count: 223/200

The 60s were something Delaney could get behind. Within muggle culture, anyway. An era filled with the beatles, twiggy eyeliner and fiery spirits– all of which called to the old soul that is little miss Collins. While not overly elegant, the practicality in her attire compensated for the lack thereof. Should a fire break loose, at least she wouldn't be tripping over floor length dresses. Her hair was neatly done, the ends curled outward for added volume. Who knew how long that would last, auburn tresses bound to spill messily over her shoulders by the end of the night. Unskilled in cosmetics, mascara and a dot of gloss was as far as any makeup went; kept in a clutch she'd inevitably lose within the first hour.

Arriving was a blur of paintings and statues entirely, all passed in a rush as Del hurried to make her entrance. Punctuality had never been the young butterfly's strong suit, though it would appear somehow, by the grace of god, she'd arrived somewhat on time. The room that greeted her was even more lavish than imagined, chandeliers and fancy tables lining a previously mundane great hall. Was she even in Hogwarts anymore? It was the food spread caught her attention first, a bizarre mix of the elegant and odd. She'd hardly given it more than a passing glance, however, far more enthralled by the atmosphere of it all. Props for whatever performance tonight would turn into– hopefully unrelated to the strange looking splatters that highlighted the dance floor.

As heels clicked against the neatly polished ground, their sound was swallowed by the music that echoed amongst them. Standing by an open table, green eyes scanned the items littered throughout. Dead flowers, and cut out magazines that resembled something she'd find in a vintage store back home. Collectors nature couldn't be helped, swift fingers stuffing an empty bottle into her bag. Surely no one would notice, there were dozens.. Recomposed, her gaze was drawn away in attempts of masking the act.

Despite showing up alone, it was only a matter of time before the slytherin latched onto a familiar face. Better yet, one completely new. Call her what you will, shy would never be one.

The Dress:

Nat acquired a beautiful dress tailored in Hogsmeade. If anybody asked, she'd immediately claim her mother sent it for her. She might as well make use of a little Christmas gift from Kenzie in 2023, have her friendship's worth, since she'd ignored Nat for the past six months. The scarlet 1950's-styled garment was loose enough to provide breathing room, but tight enough to adorn her frame. Her black bejeweled necklace, and matching earrings, glittered when they struck every other angle. Her lacy black gloves rose about two inches above her elbows. Her eyeshadow was dark gray and glittery; her lipstick was deep maroon. Her dark spice-toned blush reinforced her cheekbones. She had short black heels that were also around two inches; these aspects helped her with mobility for the sake of dancing. Her legs were covered in near-black stockings. Further, an elf had graciously aided in doing her hair in a 1950's ponytail. Nat felt attractive, and wondered who would approach her and ask to dance. If not, she may ask a lucky person herself. She recognized the importance of working towards one's own luck rather than relying on chanced fortune.

Nat approached the Space Foods and entertained herself with the description of Claudie Haigneré on the tag of the packaging for one of the weird foods she couldn't begin to explain: The first Frenchwoman in space, who earned the Chevalier of the Légion d'Honneur and the Chevalier of the Ordre National du Mérite. She located an empty table, perching at one closer to the corner where she could marvel at film posters. She hadn't heard of most of these films; after all, many were of a muggle's world. Nat mulled over the posters with the garish scarlet stains and masked or disfigured men, holding knives in 1930's suits, or with long, razor-sharp teeth for the more outlandish entries. These looked fun to watch, especially compared with a lot of detective and dark romance noir films that were likely actually released, rather than just set, in the 1930's-60's. Regardless, she didn't, presently, have any muggleborns to speak with.

Why was she thinking about Kenzie, or people like Kenzie, at least, so much today? Why did she care, still, about what'd happened? She supposed it was just that, she was afraid Kenzie would show up tonight, and she would feel the need to ridiculously watch for the other girl all night to avoid her as much as possible. She hadn't quite gotten over avoiding Kenzie in order to not have to interact with her, instead of ignoring her entirely. Ignoring entirely was something Kenzie certainly liked to do to Nat during 1st-Year. Nat couldn't lie to herself, that element hurt the worst out of all Kenzie did, or, rather, failed to do. It was just, kind of, messed-up to her. Even though they'd stopped speaking to each other, if they were in the same space, the least they could do was wave to one another. In Year 2, it felt like Kenzie didn't even notice her anymore because she was always surrounded by friends who clearly valued her a lot. Nat sighed under her breath. It was barely audible, but there was much more going on beneath that. Why did she feel like an ocean was churning in her stomach? Kenzie's life was none of her business, not anymore.

Stats/Abilities:

Reducio

Perfectionist
Poison Resistance
Stamina: 8
Evasion: 8
Strength: 3
Wisdom: 9
Arcane Power: 8
Accuracy: 4

Action:
Walking in, retrieving food, and sitting at a table, scanning the crowd. Pending an interaction.

Interaction:
Interacting with @Kenzie Thatcher. (Permission from @Kenzie Thatcher to godmod her past actions in this thread.) Closed to interactions with others for the duration of The Gala of Mysteries unless you ask permission via Owl.

Interacts with: @Xiomara Torres

The heavy wooden doors of the Great Hall loomed ahead, their grandeur not lost on Aamon despite the countless times he had passed through them. Tonight, though, was different. The Great Hall, site of the Sorting Ceremony, thrice a day meals and of course the occasional announcement, the Great Hall seemed to be more an all-purpose room. Yet the utility of this revelation did little to subdue the boy's excitement. The ball’s atmosphere carried a weight of anticipation, and the Seer's mind raced with possibilities. The Slytherin straightened his tie and adjusted his jacket, his jacket was dark and plain, high cut and considered to be fashionable in many pureblood circled. His vest was a cream color, with an intricate embroidered floral pattern that ran up the center. His white tie, made from a shiny satin-like fabric caught the light from the enchanted candles floating overhead. He felt confident in the attire he had chosen until he almost reached the Great Hall. He noticed, but tried hard to not stare. Many of them wore strange clothes, the sort he would expect from a moderate-priced escort considering their low cut. He looked away, there was just something wrong with low cut shirts on a twelve year old.

No matter. He knew how to act and how to dress. His family had a reputation to uphold, and though this wasn’t a formal Ministry event, appearances still mattered. He walked with dignified purpose, mentally reviewing an internal checklist. Greeting. Small talk. Flowers, sadly 'disaster flowers' as he called them. The reason he was in Hogsmeade on the day the schools arrived was because he was getting a bouquet for Xiomara Torres, his ball date. He was excited over the prospect of bringing her to the ball, she seemed grounded and normal and like many, he could use a dose of normalcy.

He wove through the early arrivals who had already gathered near the entrance, murmuring excitedly in their groups. My eyes scanned the space, but I didn’t have to look for long. There she was, standing by the doors, her back-and-forth rocking making her stand out even more than she probably realized. As if she was trying to exhaust some sort of internal energy. Xiomara. I almost chuckled at the sight of her – dressed in a way that only she could pull off, her reporter-inspired look somehow blending charm with a quiet confidence. His impulse of course, born of his upbringing was to feel sorry for her. To offer to get her another gown for the next ball, a better one. But the wildflowers pinned to her hat made him smile. Thoughtful. She had put in effort – no, she had put herself into it, and that was worth far more than any fancy gown or elaborate makeup. He looked at the flowers he had brought with him, a sense of simmering shame that he could not quite articulate, he considered tossing the vibrant blooms to the side before she saw them. Shades of purple, for whatever reason he felt that color might have been her favorite.

Aamon pushed aside the lingering thoughts of family expectations and reputations. For now, he just wanted to have a normal evening.

“Xiomara,” he said, stepping up to her with a slow smile. “You look perfect.” He meant it. It wasn’t the clothes, be them new or vintage. The flowers being field plucked or store bought. It was the way she seemed... herself. Genuine.

He awkwardly offered the mass of blooms he had brought as some sort of tribute to her. They seemed odd. Too much, the wrong thing. His confidence dissolved moments upon meeting, but he maintained face. He reached out, offering Xiomara his arm. “Shall we?”

Trunk

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Mentionning: @Elisa Wagner, @Tara Johnson ☆ Date: 19th october, post sunset
Part-veela: Not in active ☆ Wearing: man's forties waistcoast

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Swan was waiting for this ball since he knew the theme. Gala of Mysteries, inspired from a type of films, was quite an interesting theme, for Swan, because he only heard things about the "films" of the muggle world. But because he was born in a magic family that hates muggles, he could'nt watch any of them, or just, in fact, approaching a Muggle. So for this ball, he read all the books he could find on the subject, in order to learn about the fashion of this style. He had to dress himself in the theme, that was all what they wanted. At least, once it reaches the nineteenth of October, he was ready. He had finished his costume with many used clothes that he had to end with a cute result: we could say it like that, swan was good in clothes conception. So with a cute forties waiscoast, he came at the ball, waiting for his best friend, Elisa Wagner. She was cool with him, his first and only best friend, but this night, he not only wanted to see her. There was also his "crush" Tara, that was maybe going to the ball too... And if he could see her, and maybe dance with her, he would be the happiest hufflepuff of the ball. But remembering that was not what he needed think about this night, Swan took his clothes, looked at him in the mirror and got to the Great Hall. The decorations were beautiful. Swan could feel the freaky halloween aesthetic, and was really, really happy to go to the ball, do the activities, meet some new people... But he focussed on Elisa. I'm here for her! We'll have fun! And he waited for her at the meeting point they had set for each other, still admiring the atmosphere around him, waiting for her.

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Action: Arriving in the Great Hall, and wait for Elisa before to eat.
Closed for interaction (Or not if you're Elisa)
Alluring
| 8 | STA | 5 | EVA | 6 | STR | 5 | WIS | 5 | ARC | 6 | ACC