Gala of Mysteries Fall Ball

Moderated action: attempting to bag the snake.
Stats:

Reducio

Stamina: 5
Evasion: 7
Strength: 4
Wisdom: 8
ArcPower: 5
Accuracy: 6

Gem was watching the actions of an older fellow Hufflepuff when he saw a snake slithering towards him. He had dealt with a decent amount of snakes before, being quite the herpetologist. Snakes seemed like the only animals that didn’t fear him, but this time it seemed to be working against him, and he had no snake hook.

Despite his experience, a strange feeling of desperation seized him, and he grabbed for anything that he could use as a weapon. But before he could get a grip on anything, or his own wits for that matter, the older Hufflepuff lunged forward with… a plate. He watched in surprise as -with a cry of warning he assumed was directed at him; she brought the ‘weapon’ down on the reptile’s head.

He gasped, before regaining his senses. He swept into a small bow, because why not play with the theme of the ball? “Thank you, Madame. I shall take it from here.” he said formally.

The previous desperate, wild and totally undignified feeling from before vanished, years of experience taking over. He quickly grabbed a plastic bag from the table, slipping off his jacket(his poor jacket that might not survive this attempt) and lining the inside of the bag with it, and approached the snake.

He knew all sorts of things, and he had expertise. His attempt to bag the snake would be like any other. But would it succeed like every other?

English • Spanish

sta • 7| eva • 6 | str • 9| wis • 6|arc • 5 | acc • 7

Keen Eyes

crying and leaving the ball

@Scout Fu-Hai as Zyair Ona'je

October 19th, evening

all sabrina's actions/thoughts are ic

Sabrina was having a hard time keeping the smile off her face. This is what she'd wanted when she visited Hogwarts in the past, this was what she'd been missing out on. Dancing with Zyair, let alone a boy, was what she was certain she'd been waiting for. Wasn't it?

It all seemed normal, all seemed casual. Everything seemed right. Why, why, did it have to go so very wrong?

It took her second to acknowledge that Zyair had frozen. She heard him mumble something she couldn't quite understand, but it didn't sound positive. "What's wrong?" she asked. Nothing should have been wrong! It was all supposed to be perfect!

"Zyair? What're you...? Zyair! Where're you going?" What had she done? What had she done?

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. What was wrong with him? "You should be."

She watched him leave. Standing there, awkward and furious, and with nowhere to go. Why did she deserve this? Whoever he needed to be with, whoever ruined her night, she wanted to know who they were. Know who was better than her.

"No puedo creer esto."I can't believe this.

Sabrina didn't recognize she was crying until a loud sob escaped her mouth. But she just stood there heartbroken. How could he have done this to her? Part of her, a big part of her, hated him. She hated him. The other part was just at a loss for words. She was at a loss for happiness. It wasn't supposed to end this way!

She stormed out of the hall, crying the whole time. She walked aimlessly. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd run into the traitor and whoever was better than her. Then she could tell him how much she hated him.

This had to be the worst night ever.

Sabrina has left this thread.

Aamon let himself relax, if only for a moment on the dancefloor, assuming that Xiomara joined him. The soft rhythm of the music, the warmth of her presence, and her unshakable optimism felt like a shield against the weight of his family’s legacy. He wanted to tell her more, mostly because she was not prying into his life but rather letting him live it. With her he could almost forget about the darkness of the ball, Mathias’ suffocating control over Winnie, and the tangled web of the Pride family’s ambitions.

Almost.

Xiomara moved with a lightness that seemed effortless, her laughter bubbling up as they spun lazily across the floor. She wasn’t worried about the politics of Hogwarts, the manipulations of powerful families, or the dark edges of fate that seemed to follow him wherever he went. In fact, she did not even know about the dark machinations that undermined the honesty of his intentions. Xiomara was just here, in this moment, and Aamon envied her for it.

But as they danced, his thoughts kept returning to Mathias and Winnie. The way she had clung to Percival, as if desperate for an anchor, and the terrified look in her eyes when Mathias smiled at her, cold and calculating. Aamon knew his brother well enough to recognize that Winnie wasn’t just a fiancée to Mathias—she was a symbol, a prize to display, a pawn in a game she didn’t even know she was playing. And she was trapped.

He knew that the pink lady didn’t choose this, not truly regardless of what she might have been led to believe and he felt a pang of something worse than sympathy as he looked on. Was this regret. No. Something else, something less reasonable, guilt.

Mathias had made certain that the outcome would be to his liking and it was likely that the girl did not realize how much worse it’ll get. His family doesn't just play games. They rewrite the rules. And he knew from his limited opportunities to interface with his monster elder that Mathias was a master at making people think they’ve won when, really, he’s just pulling the strings tighter. He let out a worried sigh and carried on with his dance, a bystander at best to whatever tragedy would befall the girl.

Aamon wanted to believe that, to believe he was different from the rest of his family. But the shadows of his heritage loomed large, and the weight of his family’s expectations bore down on him constantly.

Since I did not notice any posts referring to me I am just claiming I am on the dancefloor and maybe dancing if Xiomara is there.

Mathias’s eyes flicked down to the feline Cormac at his feet, a slow, calculating smile spreading across his pale face as if even the cat’s impudent behavior amused him. He crouched slightly, his hand reaching out in a mock gesture of affection before stopping just shy of Cormac’s ear, fingers twitching with restrained malice. There was a predator behind the façade as he held the pose long enough to make things awkward.

“Such loyalty,” Mathias said softly, his voice barely audible yet dripping with menace. “It’s almost touching, really. A pet willing to humiliate itself for its master’s cause. Or is it the other way around?” A beast untrained, being allowed to wander about spreading its filth and disease in a school that even on its worst days maintained the barest expectations of sanitation and training. It would not take much more than a word to evict the flea-riddled beast.

Straightening with a smooth motion, Mathias turned his gaze back to Percival, his smile now razor-sharp as he shook his leg. Unsanity moisture dripping from the cuff of his dress pants. Cormac might be a former resident of Hogwarts soon enough if their master failed to ensure restraint and compliance. He knew how to choose his words and how to maintain control, even in moments such as this. “You speak of right and wrong, Gray, as if the world operates in such simple terms. But we both know better, don’t we? You don’t care about justice or righteousness. You care about taking what’s mine.” The boy had some sort of vendetta against his paternal line, or there was simply an odd arrangement of coincidences that seemed to lead the Slytherin on a destructive path. He had previously romanced Santario Martin, a Slytherin like the both of them that his half-brother had shown interest in before Percival with his newspapers, brillo hair and weak jaw swopped in.

His eyes glinted dangerously as he took a single, deliberate step closer to Winnie, his presence towering over her as though to reinforce the invisible chains between them. “Winnie’s mother didn’t mention me?” he mused, feigning surprise. Of course she didn't, they had never met. There was a thread of jealousy, a sense that something was there between Percival and Winnie, he was certain of it. “That’s hardly a revelation. She’s a muggle, after all. Their memories tend to be so... selective when it comes to the things they’d rather not see.” A hint at a lie to deepen Winnie's paranoia and fear. She had recently become aware of years of gas-lighting, imbibing in memory-altering poisons and manipulating her course over the past few years. Everything she knew could have been a lie and a majority of it was.

He leaned slightly toward Percival, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that carried nonetheless. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve been to the farm, seen the charming little patch of dirt they call home. And yet you failed to notice something very important about Winnie.” He implied a secret that only he knew. Something to leave Percival wondering, agitated, filled with a sense of reckless urgency.

Straightening, Mathias turned his attention fully to the petite Ravenclaw, his apparent paramour, fiance, his tone softening but not losing its edge. “You see, my darling, I don’t just want you—I understand you. Every fear, every doubt, every dream you think you can’t have anymore... I know them all.” His hand brushed her arm lightly, a gesture that might have seemed tender to an outsider but sent a clear message to those who knew him better. There was a disparity in knowledge, in preparedness and in resources. She knew little of Mathias Pride in truth, his name, his house and his vocation. His actual bloodline connection with the Athanatos family was left for the most part unspoken. His skills, as a Seer, left unshared. His extensive family, the true depth and distance of his connections and of course how far he was willing to go for what he wanted. She knew some of it, or it was implied enough that she had gotten an impression. When his ambitions caused harm to others, he was seen as aspirational, ambitious. He did not try very hard to hide the fact that he contributed to Vladimir's death.

“And you,” he added, turning his gaze back to Percival, “you’re a distraction at best. A footnote in her story. But by all means, keep playing the noble interloper. It’s amusing to watch you tilt at windmills while she makes her choice.” There was no choice, not really between himself and the peasant wizard that tried to insert himself needlessly into Winnie's life.

Finally, his attention shifted to Cormac, his smile curdling into something darker. “As for your little friend here…” He stepped to the side, causing the cat to scramble away or be stepped on. “Do try to keep your pets in line, Gray. They might get hurt wandering too far from home.” there was a large, deep, dark, cold lake just meters from where students would walk and play. It would be a terrible shame if anything were to happen to dear Cormac.

With that, Mathias' attention returned to Winnie. A kiss to seal their adoration for him. His hand firmly planted on her back, his lips pressed against hers. It was a voyeuristic display of dominance for Percival's displeasure.

A shock of discomfort. The kiss broke. Mathias’s hand instinctively went to his lip, the sharp sting of her bite causing him to pull back enough to see a rough patch of crimson painting her lower jaw. His gaze darkened as his tongue brushed the faint metallic taste of blood. His expression twisted into a mocking smile as he surveyed Winnie’s panic, her flailing arms and frantic attempts to dislodge the snake from her leg. She was trembling, gasping, and scolding the creature as though it could understand her—a performance both pitiable and pathetic.

He took a step towards the snake, some sort of venomous creature considering its insistent bite. He was hardly a herpetologist, but he was confident this creature did not wander into the ball on its own recognizances but rather was compelled here by a dark master. A parselmouth, a rare breed of wizards that had the ability to communicate with and control snakes.

Looks like he would have to kill it, he thought with cold amusement, his composure entirely intact.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and smooth, carrying just enough edge to cut through the chaotic din. "Petrificus Totalus," he incanted, his wand in his hand faster than one might consider natural. Also known as the full body-bind curse, intended to paralyze the target, the snake. Not that the act would end the bite, but it would end the unfortunate creatures life when he stepped on it and it became a stain on the bottom of his shoe.

If they were to engage them with vermin, he would treat what was sent as vermin.

“Children, yes,” he murmured, as though their earlier conversation hadn’t been derailed by the snake’s sudden appearance. His tone was calm, measured, but laced with menace. If the charm was effective against the snake, he would try to step on the creature. His words unaffected by the necessity of what he was doing. “You seemed surprised, darling. Surely, you knew. A legacy like mine requires heirs. Strong ones. Beautiful ones. You would make the perfect mother to them, don’t you think?”

The fact that their blood status would leave their children as something unworthy of the Athanatos legacy was unmentioned. The fact that she might bear him children but they would never reach the heights that Pride himself aspired to. So why?

He stepped closer, his presence towering over her as he potentially crushed the snake underfoot, intending to kill it. “But perhaps I was wrong,” he added softly, feigning disappointment. “You seem... overwhelmed. Not that I can wholly blame you, your peers assaulting you so. I could only expect you to fall to pieces... What would you do with the responsibilities of a wife? Of a mother?”

The rhetorical questions hung in the air as he crouched slightly, his movements deliberate. If the snake was dead, he would pick it up by its tail and fling it towards its master. Mathias straightened slowly, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

“You see, Winnie,” he said, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve, “this is why you need me. To guide you. Protect you. Shape you into someone capable of bearing the Pride family name.” His voice lowered further, the intimacy of his tone making the words feel like a threat. “Without me, you’d crumble under the weight of it all. Isn’t that right?”

His hand reached out, brushing her hair from her face with a gentleness that belied his true intentions. His lips curled into a smile that was more predator than fiancé. “Now, let’s not make a scene, shall we? I’ve already forgiven your… outburst.” His thumb brushed briefly over his injured lip, the blood a stark reminder of the fragile line she had just crossed.

“After all,” he continued, stepping back to give her space, “what would your friends think if they saw you like this? They might think you’re incapable of handling even the simplest of challenges.” His voice softened into a mockery of concern. “But don’t worry, my love. I’m here to help. To ensure you don’t have to carry these burdens alone.”

Mathias offered his hand again, this time with an exaggerated air of patience and kindness. His smile never wavered, even as his eyes betrayed his true thoughts. “Come now, Winnie. The night is still young, and we wouldn’t want anyone else to get the wrong impression, would we?”

Allowing winnie to clean up since I am sure she needs to do follow-ups to this. Leaving the immediate area/thread.

As Eugenia began speaking to him in Greek, Valentin froze as still as an ice sculpture. The tones were so nostalgic to him that he felt like he must be back in his childhood home, but no, he was bigger now, and his mother had long since parted from the world. Yet, the voice… the syllables… what were they? Why did he know them?

Turning to face the girl, the captain’s mouth fell open with surprise. She looked just like… who was it… the mysterious woman in his childhood who would lavish him with gifts and never spoke a language he understood. Yes, this sweet-looking youth looked like that friend of his mother’s… Ariadne, from Crete wasn’t it? Yes, the one who had been alive since Ottoman times. Val didn’t understand most of what the girl had said, but he did catch one cognate:

“Βαλκάνια; Yes… The Balkans.” Valentin slipped back into Russian automatically, which he frequently had done as a child when not understanding someone’s language. “I flew the width and breadth of Albania last year. I speak some broken Albanian.” Clearing his throat, Valentin gave his old rusty language a try, even although he wondered if it would call the ghost of a certain water sprite down upon him. “Do you understand me? What languages do you speak?” A pained expression painted his features and suddenly Valentin stopped. Apparently he had not been emotionally prepared to use that particular language again, as his eyes shifted away in a strange arc of his neck. Looking around as if someone, or something, was haunting him, he sighed. Shaking his head, Valentin turned back and proceeded once more in Russian.

“You sound so familiar to me. My mother had Ottoman ancestors and so she often brought a Greek friend to visit. I’m afraid Italian is my main Mediterranean language, but I can understand quite a bit of old Turkish. One of our ancestors was Crimean Tatar, and another from Anatolia, and another… well, I’m afraid it all gets a bit complicated once you go far enough back.” Bowing slightly as he reached out his hand in greeting, Valentin fell back on old habits once he saw that his excitement had run away with him. “My name is Valentin Schnell, from Durmstrang. I represent our quidditch team as first string seeker and captain. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” The boy awaited the sound of the girl’s name, and if she extended her hand, Valentin would place a polite kiss on the back of it in an elegant if formal greeting. “I’ve read of your Tsoliades. We are wearing these today to honor our headmistress, who passed away in the recent tragedy.” Looking to Nikolai at his side, Valentin checked to make sure he was doing alright. “You see, she was Albanian. My friend made his with his own hands. Isn’t it such beautiful craftsmanship? Mine is simply an antique, as I have no such skills with fabric. Wearing these is very important to us today because of our headmistress.” An idea lit up the seeker’s violet eyes with brief excitement, and he looked at his companion as if it might also be pleasing to him. “Miss, you know, I might remember some Greek from my mother’s songs. She sang with her friend. That’s right, that’s how I remember her best! What a beautiful singer she was, too. She looked just like you, you know. I wonder if you are blood relations.” Looking at Eugenia and then back at Nikolai, Valentin decided to give it a shot. He didn’t have his Turkish oud with him, but his silvery tenor voice was ever with him.

Valentin’s song wove rhythmically with perfect timing, and although his pronunciation was far from perfect and some of the faster syllables were missing, the lyrics should have been altogether recognizable. His voice was quite pretty, and despite a small cough at the end of the song from recent inhalation of smoke, one could scarcely tell that he had almost died just the other day. He seemed to be a talented musician with a great deal of practice under his belt, as each note was pitch perfect.

“How was that? Did you understand any of it? I honestly don’t know what it means, but we all used to sing this one together. It was my favorite of Ariadne’s. Also, you’re no bother, please sit and join us. Your Russian is perfectly fine! Very good, in fact!”

Smiling back at Eugenia, Valentin showed only welcome and pleasure despite rings of tiredness darkening his eyes.

It was then that Valentin looked up to see his friend Mikael Halldorson walking towards him. Standing abruptly from his seat, the captain looked alarmed.

“Misha!” Valentin raised his hand as if to beckon for Mikael to come to him. “Misha, what’s happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Was it the Albanian, was it the singing, or was it something more dangerous… something specific to Mikael, like the vision that haunted him on the train all those months ago?

Mikael came up behind Valentin before he could turn and grasped the seeker’s left wrist. With his sea-storm blue eyes as wide as a frightened animal’s, Mikael stared at the seeker on and on before the words finally came.

“Valentin... I think I am being watched.”

“You’re being watched?” repeated the snowy-haired boy back to him, trying to understand. “How long has it been this way? Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m going to take care of you. I just need you to tell me everything you know.”

Basic Stats:
STA 8 - EVA 20 - STR 3 - WIS 20 [24] - ARC 1 - ACC 18
Keen Eye / Charmer / Evasive Maneuvers / Fearless / Comprehend Languages: Parseltongue & Veela
Inventory: A silver locket, a longer handmade necklace with a serpent theme, a silver earring from the Horntail Horde piercing excursion, a golden ring from Yefim, a wand, a copy of Romeo’s medical notebook, Oakshaft 79.

Action: Talking to Eugenia, Mikael, and Nikolai. Singing, too.

Movement: Still sitting with Nikolai at a remote corner table

Appearance: Albanian post-Ottoman attire with a sheathed and peace-tied scimitar; wearing a historical white fustanella with a brilliantly blood-red overcoat

Reducio

Open to interaction with anyone. OOC I anticipate, welcome, and encourage others to interact with Val IC.

@Eugenia Karageorgiadi So sorry for the delay! I was simply a bit busy. @Percival Rainwood (Mikael), @Matthew Campbell (Nikolai)

MODERATION ROUND 6

Out of the three attempts to restrain the snake, the first two would be wildly unsuccessful and ultimately futile.

First to come to the rescue was @Tesla Stone, who, brandishing an unremarkable plate, attempted to pin it above the snake's head. A strategic move just to halt its unseemly habit of biting, but a failed endeavour nevertheless. Perhaps unaccustomed with dealing with such beasts, hers would be unsuccessful. Despite staying as far out of the viper's sight as she could, Tesla's accuracy would fail the girl as the plate crashed into marble instead and the snake slithered away from the impact point. Far from a knight on shining armour moment, but her courage was to be praised for attempting to deal with the creature with such a mundane method. However, now feeling intimidated by this new threat, the viper would not be lenient with an attack. While Tesla managed to skip out of the way, it was swift and still landed one on her ankle before making a quick retreat.

Reducio

Tesla attempts to pin it with a plate
Tesla's accuracy: [d20: 4]+9 = 13 < Snake's evasion: [d20: 13]+10 = 23
Snake attempts to bite Tesla
Snake's accuracy [d20:19]+10 = 29 > Tesla's evasion: [d20: 20]+6 = 26
HP Loss: 50 + 5 (Arno's arcp) * 20 = 150

Second was the budding, self-proclaimed herpetologist @Gemini Johnson. The original target of the reptile and the one it was most keen on attacking, his fight against it would be a short lived one as well. While he was unbitten, perhaps being too little of a danger to the seemingly haughty little beast, his attempt at bagging the animal would fail as well. This time too, his accuracy would be wildly off, giving the snake an easy escape from the smothering plastic and away from him...

Reducio

Gemini attempts to bag it
Gemini's accuracy: [d20: 2]+6 = 8 < Snake's evasion: [d20: 8]+10 = 18
Snake attempts to bite Gemini
Snake's accuracy [d20:6]+10 = 16 < Gemini's evasion: [d20: 15]+7 = 22

And straight into the vicinity of none other than @Mathias Pride, fiancé extraordinaire himself. Unlike the two wizards before him, he seemed to be to most magic-inclined out of them, or perhaps just the one sharpest in the department of scheming. Instead of showing off his resourcefulness and looking around, the Slytherin decided the time had come for him to display his spellsmanship instead. With the final flick of his wand and a forceful, though still as composed as always "Petrificus Totalus". This time, he would find his mark squarely, invisible binds wrapping around the creature and freezing it in place. While he could have left the creature perfectly frozen, the teenager had more violent inclinations. Turns out only snake can defeat snake. ...But, still not fully. Perhaps too occupied by being a master manipulator to place enough care into a mere viper, Arno's conjugated snake would prove more resilient than it looked and survive, though just barely, Mathias' foot slamming onto it. Still bound though, it seemed like suffering in pain was its only option. Further entertainment for the sadist was all it was.

Reducio

Mathias casts Full Body Bind on Snake
Wisdom Check: [d20: 18]+5 > 14
Mathias' accuracy: [d20: 16]+15 = 31 < Snake's evasion: [d20: 16]+10 = 26
Roll duration: [d3: 2] => 1

With the snake out of the game, surely this evening would continue calm - or as calm as they could bring themselves to be - right?

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OOC Information

Welcome to the Gala of Mysteries!
1. To participate, you must be indexed. If you are not indexed yet, please apply here.
2. Moderation will occur every week on Saturdays.
3. Your character is allowed one moderated action per round. Please specify your moderated action somewhere OOC in your post.

Reducio

Moderated actions are those actions that requires rolls like casting a spell on someone, physically fighting (like punching) with someone, surprising someone etc. Rolls are not needed for pre-decided or consented actions, like asking someone for a dance.

4. Please include your abilities and stats in your post.
5. There are two other threads in this event, Haunted Halls and Whispers of the Dark. You can directly enter the two threads without needing to post in this thread, but if you already have, please specify that you are leaving this thread for either one of the other two.
6. Please follow all usual HIO rules.
7. Enjoy the ball!

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•Terrible Presence in Effect•

@Action : Casting Melofors

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With his summoned Asp Viper creating more ruckus then Arno could've anticipated, it only further emboldened his efforts at being a menace. The reptile managed to bite two of Hogwart's students. First being Winnie Harper, the woman and her weird fiancé who had just proposed to her, "this was no time for a proposal" Arno thought, keeping it to himself. This weird impression at PDA hardly mattered to a visitor like him. The second one was a much younger student then the two before, attempting to catch it with a plate. "Were all Hogwarts students as foolish or was this one a pioneer?" were Arno's thoughts as he watched it all unfold from the shadows until his viper was caught in a spell bind.

Following which came a red head girl, who proceeded to further throw a weird looking object towards the sidelines, somewhere along the lines of where Arno was standing. Perfect, he thought. She was now his next target in his attempt to disrupt the ball as much as he possibly could. It was almost dystopian how these kids hidden away in their impenetrable castle were enjoying a ball while not even a few days prior others had seemingly lost so much.

Action : Casting Melofors at Elizabeth Stonewell. @

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly”- --------- William WoodsWorth Playing as Isadora Vilaca——

The chattering of the ball occupants seemed to ring loudly in Isadora’s ears. The young girls heartbeat drumming loudly inside her ears, her sapphire blue eyes darting back and forth watching everyone in this vast hall. Making her stomach feel like lead the young girl discarded the dessert in her hand that she had planned prior to eat. Feeling her stomach churn. As if the uneasiness of all these students laughing and seeming to be having fun made the young girl confused how everyone could forget what happened a few days prior. The lives lost, lives that were changed drastically. Isadora knew they were all children naive and innocent but yet something did not settle well inside Isadora’s gut. Maybe it was the fear creeping in while her anxiety seemed to scream drastically, but she had to ignore it. Ignore the dread creeping in. Ignore the anxiety. She had to pretend, pretend to be a fool to ignore her gut. What could possibly happen inside this vast hall?
Isadora took a shaky breath slowly, walking away from the desert table heading towards the sidelines. Being away from others seemed smart. The young girl could feel her palms sticky with sweat from the nerves slowly bubbling up inside her mind. Anxiety was not the girl's friend, an obstacle to her downfall if she did not learn to control it.
Moving towards a wall that seemed to have few people around it, the young girl leaned her back against the wall releasing a soft airy sigh that seemed to shake lightly like waves in the ocean. Her golden shawl draped carefully over her shoulders covering that wretched scar on her back. A reminder to the young girl daily how her life seemed to be nothing but cursed lately. A curse, a dreadful curse that seemed to haunt the girl. Especially since that curse made her like the other half-breeds. That thought made the girl shudder as if the icy fingers danced on her back like spiderwebs.
A sigh escaped Isadora’s lips once again, her sapphire blue eyes scanned the hall blinking slowly as if the girl was lost in thought for a while she had not noticed the snake that seemed to be causing chaos. A snake? Who allowed a snake into this event? The girl blinked in confusion. Her mind seemed to swirl around in confusion.
Isadora glanced sideways, her sapphire like eyes catching a red haired girl throwing something nearby towards a boy that was fairly close to where Isadora herself was standing. Blinking once again, the young girl pushed herself off of the wall moving closer to the boy. His hair seemed dark in the lighting as if the night was cascading over him. A strange boy who seemed to shoot a spell towards the troublemaking red haired girl.
Hogwarts must be filled with children who had no idea how to act at balls like this after all one could tell by the girl's appearance as well.
Isadora stood behind the boy though she was carefully standing a few feet away in case she startled him. He seemed to be causing trouble himself, but there is always a reason so troublemakers she supposed. Taking in a shaky breath Isadora clung to her shawl carefully stepping back in case this boy decided to swing or aim his wand at her.
“What are you doing??”
Isadora spoke softly, her creole accent drifting around the duo. Isadora was curious like a cat with a new ball of yarn. She was uncertain of what this boy was doing. Of course he seemed much taller than the girl most people were. She was only four feet three inches tall, rather small for a twelve year she supposed but her height had its pros.
The young girl awaited an answer as she twiddled with her shawl keeping it carefully placed over her shoulders, eyeing the boy carefully watching his movement ready to run if she had to and flee. But she was curious. Curious in many things but more curious why this boy seems ready to fight the stranger that appeared out of nowhere throwing things.
Hogwarts truly was a strange school.

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wc: 735 tag: @Prat pass @Elizabeth Stonewall ──────────────

notes: Actions: Walking over to Arno ────────────── ──────────────

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Attending the ball this year was one of Vasilius's last plan knowing how Violet has been deliberately ignoring him, not even sparing him a reply to the countless letters he had sent her and now that he was in Hogwarts, it was as if the girl never existed, her presence a complete disappearance, the young boy failed to even get a slight glance of her, even in the most crowded places. But his loneliness was cut short when he re-met Mari, an older girl he had met in one of the pureblood balls he had gone to along with his parents, she was fine, at least she hadn't annoyed him like the lot of chatty people he had unfortunately met during camp.

Vasilius sighed as he rubbed off the thoughts in his mind as his eyes fell on the clock, his eyes widened, he was late for the ball, for the second consecutive year, Vasililus snatched his coat from the hanger and ran towards Great Hall, unlike last year there was no pressure in him to keep Violet, a person he fancied waiting but neither did it mean he could make Mari wait, if she had come early of course, the your brunette coursed through the hallways, this time his looks much more composed unlike the last year when he had rushed into the ball with his hair a mess and tie unproperly done.

As the young boy stepped into the room, his eyes full of awe of how classy the Great Hall looked, he never thought such a jolly room like that could hold the somber aura of a pureblood ball, but the stars in his eyes were immediately replaced with a frown when his eyes fell on the table containing food of vast categories, the only problem was, they all screamed either muggle or not edible at all, from the jelly made out of salad to tv dinners which's initial look made it much less appetizing than it already was, Seeing all these monstrosities, it was clear to him that he'd rather eat the infamous French snail delicacy than whatever trash the ball was serving.

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Action: Entering the ball	Mentions: Mari Alves
Stats: St: 7|Eva: 7|Str: 5|Wis: 6|Arc: 3|Acc: 7	Mood: Annoyed