The Spring Soirée Spring Ball 2025

Is there a better sensation than a soaring heart? Never in his short lived life had he felt all at once alive and excited with each step, sway, and turn; it was as if they were waltzing on air. It was a confounding feeling. How is it he could feel so light? He must not be eating well if he is losing weight! Not even the thought of food could snap the boy out of this most mesmerizing moment! No bathroom or hunger pangs could stop him now!

Meyra was the puzzle piece that fit perfectly into a place Dennis never knew existed. A space within himself he didn’t know was hollow and needed filled. Time stood still and all the world made sense for as long as he was able to hold on to her. All he could do was continue to gaze into her beautiful green eyes, searching perhaps for what it all meant. Did it mean anything at all? Would they never have this chance again? Surely, they were only just friends, could friends make friends feel this way?

Such a miracle never lasts long. As the feelings and thoughts grew too much for the young Ravenclaw to bear, the song was coming to an end. They slowed and the moment fluttered away like a whisper in the wind. They stood there for a moment as he let go of her hand and he let his fall to her waist still refusing to let her go.

Meyra was the first to speak. The song had ended and with it, it’s enchantment. She wanted to go to her friends. He couldn’t help but wish for just a little more time. He opened his mouth to protest then he froze, mouth agape. Soft lips on his cheek. A tug away. She was gone. Stay. Come back. Why wasn’t his voice working! A gasp. It felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs, as if someone had punched him in the gut. Had he even breathed at all during that dance? He blinked. He blinked again. He blinked thrice. Each time gasping for air.

A shiver. And with the spasm a small white piece of parchment knocked itself loose form the folds of his cloak. Dennis looked down to see his dancing card. He looked at it, looked at where Meyra had run off to and then back down at the paper. “But…but…you didn’t sign the card,” Dennis said weakly to himself as he bent down to pick the card up.

Dazed and confused, the boy turned around and aimlessly walked in the other direction staring at his card and trying, with failed efforts, to relive that dance in his head. The dance was done and the feelings evaporated. Dennis gave a shake, if that was the first dance, what was the second going to be like! He shouldn’t dwell too much on one moment when there are many moments to be had!

Still staring at his card, he was now smiling. The night was just beginning. He just needed a new partner! Unfortunately, he was definitely not watching where he was going!

Action: Finished dancing with @Meyra Lancaster, set to stumble into @Violence Bloodthorn.
Equipment: Dogbreath Potion

Abilities: Fearless and Impartial

Sta: 5 | Eva: 8 | Str: 1 | Wis: 8 | Arc: 8 | Acc: 10

The Fit:

Reducio

❂ ⌜ The Spring Soirée ⌟ ❂ ❂ April 11, 2025 ▎ ---- ❂

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After all the times she had experienced weird happenings in balls like this or any Hogwarts event for that matter, she had enough of them. While the trip to Beauxbaton was not as bad as she had expected, that didn't lessen her wariness of similar events, specifically, one that was hosted by Hogwarts. She had a plan and that was to stay in the common room and sleep, free from worries and danger. Yet all that shattered when she couldn't resist the request of her step-cousin wanting for them to go to the ball, to have fun. Raizel was put in a difficult situation. Choosing between making Meyra happy by fulfilling her request to having a peace and quiet evening. She picked the former of course.

Now, a new problem arose and that was… what outfit to pick. She wasn't as ready as before because her mind was set on skipping this ball, wanting nothing to do with it. Why did she said yes? However, it was too late to take it back and Raizel had never been one to turn her back on her words. So she scrambled to check her trunk, only finding a dragon suit that she had worn once for some reason. She had no choice but to send an owl to her parents, not just once, but twice. She had requested the type of outfit she would want after finding out the theme. She was going to wear an assassin like robe and stay in the background but quickly dropped that idea and instead… picked a decent outfit.

Black and red suit, black pants and brown boots. Nothing fancy as far as she can tell, not overly attractive but it has its own charm. Her usual hair that she often let loose is now tied in a half-up style, something that the Gryffindor doesn't usually do. It was by chance that she had stumbled upon Alyssea, her other cousin. She asked if she could do something about her hair. She doesn't know why she asked, she doesn't even know what came over her wanting to do something with her hair when she didn't care before. Guess this time, she wanted to look different. To look cool? Perhaps. She had no reason to dress up as much like other people. She had no one to impress, she had no date. If she were honest, she was just attending as a guardian at most and there to keep an eye on her step-cousin. She doesn't understand the concept of dating or even the idea of liking someone. For a person that's smart enough to learn advanced spells, she was a complete idiot in the socializing department, specifically, love and dating.

Oh well, it wasn't that important for the Gryffindor as of now. There are things that she needed to take care of first. She has her own priorities and things to figure out in her life, specifically, her current state and her obsessions and reckless behavior. Surprising, isn't it? She had finally decided to take a breather and for once, think about the lessons from a certain foreign student that she had met last October. This ball, she could take it as a step to stop herself from doing the usual stupid things that she does in her free time and think about her next move thoroughly, look back at the things that she had done and ask herself if those were indeed her only options. For her, seeking more strength and approval was her only chance to be happy, believing that she had yet to make a name for herself. There was still a cloud all over her, preventing her from seeing that she already did. Prefect, Duelling Co-Captain, her recent achievements. While not as much as a victory from a sports event, they were still achievements, proof that she was moving forward. All she had to do was to see it.

You are not a failure.

Zach's words rang in her mind, making her pause, realizing that from all those thinking, she didn't even notice that she had already arrived at her destination, the Great Hall. “Right.” They were simple words but for some reasons, they meant a lot to her. Not just him, there were others that believed in her, opening her eyes just a bit and finally seeing their faces that somehow put an ease to her exhausted face. It was enough to lighten her mood and guess, it did make her feel a bit of energy to enjoy the ball for once. Once she was inside, her eyes immediately scanned for familiar faces and once she did, she smiled and was about to walk towards them when the unexpected happened.

She was already feeling lively thanks to the positive thoughts that she just had and seeing Meyra and Dennis dancing together just made her day a lot better. It was more on the fact that she enjoys seeing her friends having fun more than she does. She went to look for a nearby seat where she could enjoy the scene. That smile widened, turning into a grin even when they stopped. While she couldn't hear what they were saying, she didn't need to for her focus was on Mey the moment her lips touched Dennis’ cheeks. Her reaction was the same as the one she had back when she saw Alyssea with her date last fall ball. “Oy, Meyra!” She called out with that cheeky grin that her cousin should be familiar with by now plastered on her face. "Having fun?" That should be a big giveaway that she saw the whole thing, that grin along with that mischievous look in those brown eyes of hers. Who knew she would become a witness to such a thing and she's not complaining about it either. Just made this event more interesting for her. “Are you sure you want to leave him?”

▪ ▫ ◙ 988/200 ◙ ▫ ▪
▪ ▫ ◙ Dialogue | #800000 ◙ ▫ ▪

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◘ ◘ ❂ Interactions: @Meyra Lancaster | @ | @ ◘ ◘ ❂ Mentions: @Dennis Tumberton | @ | @

Outfit Reducio

Items Reducio Wand Enchanted Satchel Potions: Antidote to Uncommon Poisons x 2, Bruise Removal Paste x 4, Muffling Draught x 2

STATS AND ABILITIES STA: 7 | EVA: 8 | STR: 3 | WIS: 10 | ARC: 8 | ACC: 10 Prod. Charms | Perfectionist | Fearless EFFECTS None

Action Arriving and interacting with Friends

Note: Permission from @Alyssea Brown's writer for the slight godmodding had been granted.

XXXXLucy easily assured her that she was only joking and that her face was hilarious. Eonaria flushed further, a little frustrated that she had reacted so intensely. I could have just waved it off instead of squeaking like a baby! Thankfully, Dev thought it was nice instead of teasing her further. Eonaria listened to Dev's descriptions of New York City as she tried to calm herself down, fascinated. The Statue of Liberty? That giant one? For a moment she had a vision of Muggles using ladders to climb up the side, and she shivered. Whatever Muggles did in shark movies, this sounded way worse. reference to some other RP The tours must go up from the inside so that nobody falls, Eonaria reassured herself. Are there stairs inside?

XX

XXXXDev seemed to catch onto her grimace, asking her if something was wrong. "Eeh? Oh, nothing's wrong!" Eonaria replied quickly, unconsciously raising one of her hands. She covered it up by brushing her hair out of her face, a little alarmed. Has my poker face really gotten that bad? Lucy also seemed to notice, frowning just a bit before spearing another piece of cheese. "Um..." She trailed off into silence. Just then, the Ravenclaw began giggling, pointing out 'a chicken.' Eonaria glanced over, bewildered, and recognized Joseph. Well, barely. He was dressed with a chicken hood and white wings, something Eonaria never thought she would see in her life. She narrowly managed to stop herself from choking for the second time in five minutes, trying desperately hard not to start laughing. "No, that's Joseph. He's a Hufflepuff," she explained with a barely-concealed grin.

XXXAmidst all the commotion, Eonaria heard a familiar voice and felt a tap on her shoulder: "Excuse me, m'lady. May I have a dance later in this fine day?" She immediately turned around with a bright smile. "Brie!!" The other girl did a mock-bow and Eonaria giggled a little. "I would be delighted to accept your invitation. You look amazing, by the way!" Sabrina was wearing a beautiful, glittery, dark blue dress that resembled stars amidst a night sky, which looked a bit similar to Lucy's outfit. Eonaria hadn't quite been expecting to actually dance tonight, but here was an opportunity! "Wait, I thought I was the butler and you were the lady," she huffed playfully, leading Sabrina to a spot where they would hopefully not collide with other dancers. Eonaria heard Lucy's comment and sent her a thumbs up in return. "Thanks! It was nice talking with you two!!"

.・-: ✧☾♩♪♩♬　. 。・゜✭・.・✫゜・。.　♬♩♪♩☽✧ :-・.

Action: Talking to @Lucy Channing and @Kaitlyn Connor as Devon, noticing @Joseph Sims, and dancing with @Sabrina Lyons

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This is even worse than I expected. A glass in one hand, the other resting on the handle of her - unfortunately - ersatz blade, the Petrovskikh heiress was glaring at the cackling crowd of students merging before her eyes. Sighing loudly, the silver haired girl took a sip of the shimmering liquid her cup held, watching the seconds run by. "One hour." "Ten minutes." "Twenty." "Fifteen." Her father had sighed, running a hand on his face. "You know how dull these so-called parties are," she had insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. Mstislav being twice her size hadn't stopped her from shooting him a venom-filled glare. One he shot back. "Besides," she had continued, "if the sole purpose of sending me to this torment is making an appearance, then who will care of how long that appearance is lasting ?" Mstislav had shook his head, taking a step closer. "You are the heiress of our house, Viktoriya. Live up to it." Quick to rise, her anger had taken over her senses as she restrained herself from lashing out - I am living up to it, it's just that these parties are completely useless whereas I could be doing something actually useful instead of gossiping and tripping over a full-sized gown, like- "Fifteen minutes." She had jerked her head up in surprise, a smile already drawing itself on her lips. "I won't disappoint you, father," she had bowed, a hand on her bust. He had simply smiled, a strange glimmer buried within his gaze. One that always made her tense under the weight of its responsabilities. "I know you won't, маленький ягненок." Problem was, fifteen minutes are actually quite long when one is quickly bored to death. Thank Merlin I don't have to wear one of those, she thought as a tall girl in one of the most seemingly uncomfortable gown passed before her. This whole soirée was a legitimate vomit of fairies and princesses, pink and green and soft flowers and pearls all mixing before her in one tight, colourful bouquet that hurt to look at. Although she genuinely enjoyed gazing at beautiful dresses, the silky fabric and exquisite ornaments remind her of the delicacy of a sword, wearing them was too much of a burden. Restrictions of movement was the last thing she needed, and her figure felt much awkward in those pretty embellishments. She was content one of her old combat leathers, paired with some pieces of armour, had been deemed 'on theme'. Apparently she passed as a knight. A thought that wasn't to displease her. She walked around, each ticking of the clock bringing her closer to her awaited freedom. A faceless group of giggling girls rushed by her, marvelling at the decoration. Viktoriya promptly stepped aside, not desiring getting caught in a nest of petticoats and ruffled, and collided into a table. A table that let out a sharp yelp. Glancing down, she met the eyes of a toy-sized boy, visibly annoyed she had stepped onto him. He barely reached her shoulder, a sight that deepened the crease in her brows and caused her to sneer, "Watch where you're walking, little one."

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Leaving Dennis behind, still feeling something tugging her towards him and struggling to ignore it, she walked without really paying attention to where her feet were leading her. Her mind stood in that moment, reliving it over and over, like caught in a transe. And each time she replayed that kiss, she was feeling more and more regretful of her impulsive choice. Why did she do that? What would Dennis be thinking about her now? Must be the incoming full moon...she was not being able to act like her normal self. That could be a reasonable explanation for why she suddenly felt so weak, why her cheeks felt so warm, and why she got so nervous and overwhelmed by simply dancing with her best friend. Yes... it was probably that! And Dennis would understand her, she was sure of that. Right?...

“Oy, Meyra!” A familiar voice burst into her mind, awakening her from her numbness and lingering thoughts. Rai had finally show up at the ball. At recognising her step-cousin, Meyra immediately smiled. A large, genuine smile. Raizel was always a very welcomed presence in her life, Hogwarts would not be the same without her. But the kind of smile Rai was returning to her, made her immediately pause. Her steps, previously accelerated, slowed to a more calculating pace and her expression, previously cheerful, slowly faded, giving way to a more restrained smile. Why was Raizel looking at her like that? It wasn't a good sign, was it?

"Hi Rai!" Meyra gave her in a soft, careful tone, her eyes scanning her cousin's face searching for the answers she was mentally praying not to see. Unfortunately, Rai's next question proved to her that her friend had witnessed the whole thing. "Crap..." Meyra mentally cursed, while deciding to make her best performance to look innocent and totally unaware of what was the real meaning behind Rai's words. She decided to keep smiling, now with reenforced and very theatrical enthusiasm, "Yes! It was fun to dance with Dennis!" She replied, totally dismissing how fast her heart was beating and not giving herself the chance to imagine how flustered she was still looking. When she noticed she had been fidgeting with her skirt's sooth fabric, she immediately stopped and let her hands fall to her sides.

"Uh..." Once again, she found herself not being able to articulate the most simple of words. For a brief moment, her lips moved, but not a sound came from them. The hell was she supposed to answer to that question? Was she even breathing? "Leave...leave who?" She stuttered, "Den...Dennis? I... I just...you know..." Meyra looked away from Rai, not being able to continue seeing that glint in her dark brown eyes, and that so-full-of-accusation-meaningful-smile. She made sure her painful grimace was towards the crowd and away from Rai's sight. Yes she had seen it, and now she would have it coming...

With a sigh, but not with resignation, Meyra turned back to Raizel. With her head held high and false confidence printed on her face, "I don't know what you mean." She told her, crossing her arms over her chest, "Why wouldn't I leave him?" She asked unimpressed, gesturing towards Dennis when she saw him there, still on the dance floor. Was he talking to another girl? Would he be dancing with her? And there it was...another completely different feeling growing inside her. Little noxious tentacles, clawing their way in...

It was everything being caused by the impending Full Moon, there was no other possible explanation for it! Yes, that was definitely it!

STATS:
(30 - Special Race)
Stamina: 6| Evasion: 7| Strength: 7| Wisdom: 3| Arcane Power: 0| Accuracy: 7
ABILITIES: Werewolf
TRUNK: Accio!
ACTIONS: Leaving Dennis on the dance floor. Talking to Rai.

@Dennis Tumberton @Raizel Voltrouz @Jun Mayumi Mochizuki @Xiomara Torres

₊⁺⋆ Date: March 11th, 2025| Number of words: 523| Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺₊

Stelle arrived at the Great Hall, her heart beating faster than she would have liked to admit. It wasn't that dancing bothered her (in fact, she'd always had an almost natural ability to move gracefully), but something about the anticipation of the event made her a little uneasy. Perhaps it was the sheer number of people or the fact that she didn't know who she'd be sharing the dance floor with that evening. Yet here she was, dressed in a gown in shades of ivory and gold, her features softly accentuated by an updo, curls flowing around her as if sharing her nervousness.

As she crossed the doors, her stride instinctively halted. The dining room, which she had so often known as the center of daily routine, was now unrecognizable. Her blue eyes scanned the round tables, decorated with charming centerpieces that seemed straight out of a dream. The warm candlelight cast dancing shadows across the faces of those present, and a faint scent of flowers and wax floated in the air. The grand chandelier seemed to crown the night with its enchanted glow, while the strains of Celtic music began to caress her ears. She felt her pulse slow, at least a little. The magic of the place was enchanting, the kind not cast with a wand but woven through laughter, dance steps, and shared glances. She walked calmly between the tables, noticing the details of her formally dressed companions, the small reflections of light on the candelabras, and the perfectly arranged fruit on the food table. Everything seemed like something out of a storybook.

She didn't have a full dance card nor a clear plan for the evening. Was she the only one with that uncertainty? Were dance cards used there? Her grandmother said she should always have one. But there was something hopeful about the idea of ​​filling it out little by little, as if each name written on it were a little surprise to be discovered. She held the card between her fingers, somewhat uneasy, but with a slight smile on her lips. She knew that, as the songs progressed, perhaps her anxiety would dissolve amid laughter, amid clumsy but sincere movements on the dance floor. And with a slight sigh, she went to choose some candied fruit, wondering who would be the first to dare to ask her to dance.

—So... where are the gentlemen here?—. she muttered, somewhat annoyed.

As she picked up a strawberry and put it in her mouth, she heard a whisper she immediately recognized. She smiled, moving carefully through the crowd until she managed to spot two friendly heads of hair. When she was close enough, she affectionately said, —Ruth! Pam!—. She was so focused on her friends that absolutely everything around her disappeared for a split second, regaining her confidence and natural radiance. As she stepped out of her bubble, she noticed a third presence. She glanced over her shoulder for a second before moving to Ruth's side. —Oh... Hi, I didn't see you—. she said with a smile that was mostly political. His face looked around a little more curiously, hoping to see more familiar faces.

ABILITIES: Part-Veela
VISUAL: Here!
ACTIONS: Eating snacks and meeting up with her friends.
INTERACTIONS + MENTIONS:@Ruth Fairchild @Pamela Graham @Joseph Sims
OPEN TO INTERACTIONS!

@Nabi Park

Aamon had a lot on his mind. He had asked Nabi Park, the most indifferent human he had ever met to the spring ball or as the fliers called it "soirée." They just wanted to sound fancy or unique in some way, but if they wanted to do something different, they should probably forgo the tired great hall or similar venue with questionable food and generic wizard music. Maybe a likely fatal boat ride, a serial killer fantasy camping trip or simply some sort of competitive event that his peers' absentmindedly forget to compete in. Come to think of it, balls were probably for the best.

He liked Nabi, not that he could define a specific reason but he also did not know of a reason to dislike her, beyond questionable taste. During the Valentines Day event in Beauxbâtons he had discovered that Nabi was dating an unfortunate muggleborn bully, Matthew Campbell. The boy was nothing spectacular, wearing shower shoes in place of conventional footwear and some sort of mass-produced bargain-bin attire that failed to fascinate him. He could have come to like Matthew, he liked most people, but Matthew was not a good or even a nice person. He had convinced Aamon to drink some sort of tainted alcoholic beverage, essentially making the first year a criminal. He chalked it up to someone else tampering with his flask. Something he did not fully believe but any doubt he had in Matthew's malicious nature was annihilated when Matthew laced his bed with flakes of poison ivy as if he was sprinkling dill on fish.

The fact that Matthew wanted her meant that Aamon was very interested in Nabi. A girl who he was not particularly opposed to, she was not unkind but she lacked warmth and for that reason she reminded him of the women in his family. A bit too familiar.

It did not take much to steal Nabi from Matthew, a declaration of interest. Matt was likely a placeholder Aamon realized, but the depth of the attachment hardly mattered, he took something from Campbell and that was what mattered. Now he needed to flaunt his victory.

He learned that Nabi wanted to coordinate with blue - this silvery shade that resembled stars on a foggy night. He had considered borrowing something from his brother Gideon, it was the alleged epitome of fashion but the ruffles scared him. He picked a more modern pureblood option, a dark jacket, a blue that was nearly black. His shirt, a pale blue, like starlight. It was not as ostentatious and gave him a "Nabi vibe." Subtle embroidery crawled up the hem of his sleeves: dancing runes, he did not know what they represented but the seamstress insisted.

When he entered the Great Hall, he did a quick scan of the room, and there she was—Nabi Park. Standing like a painting someone forgot to put in a museum. Aamon’s brain momentarily short-circuited.

And then he tripped on absolutely nothing.

Aamon caught himself on a decorative pillar, trying to play it off with a casual, style points for the landing, and then strode over to Nani with his signature grin - crooked, a little lopsided. “Nabi,” he said, his voice just shy of too-loud, beaming like he hadn’t just nearly faceplanted, “You look like a moon goddess. Or like a very well-behaved thunderstorm.” He paused. “That sounded weirder than I meant. What I’m trying to say is: Wow.”

Aamon blinked, trying to remember what he rehearsed. He had arranged a series of lines to keep his foot seperate from his mouth. Something about snacks. Or compliments. Or—wait. Yes. The line. he thought he remembered but he still forgot.“And don’t worry,” he announced half way through a well-rehearsed script he had lost his place in, offering her his arm gallantly, “Shall we make the dance floor question its purpose?” Because if nothing else, Aamon Athanatos was here to cause a scene. A charming, probably sweaty, scene. But for tonight, it was their scene.

English : #EFD3D2
Korean : B2284B
Russian : 009A44
Thoughts: ' this '
Others Speaking: Bold
Outfit: Dress | Hair | Shoes | Cuff
Word Count:331
°° STATS | stamina ◦ 4 | evasion ◦ 5 | strength ◦ 7 | wisdom ◦ 6 | arcane power ◦ 8 | accuracy ◦ 5

𝓐zzure tilted her chin up with one of his fingers, and Violence internally melted into a puddle. Her heart skipped a beat—or maybe three. Her face was definitely on fire now, she was sure of it. So warm that Azz could probably feel the heat radiating off her cheeks. She stared up into his eyes, those soft gray eyes that seemed to hold entire universes, and thought she could get lost in them forever.
Then he spoke, his voice a low murmur, “Don’t be embarrassed. Please, ramble some more. I like listening to your voice.” Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened in surprise, and before she could even recover, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It was such a sweet, almost intimate gesture that her insides turned to absolute mush. That was such a cute thing to say—but also, that was the first thing he said. No compliments? Hmm. “You’re gorgeous, Violence,” he added, as if hearing her thoughts. “Your dress really compliments your eyes. You are very beautiful.”
Her lips parted slightly, and she blinked. “Okay, thought too soon,” she murmured under her breath, half-laughing, half-flustered. It was... nice. Formal. Sweet. But just that? She looked down, not wanting to show the strange disappointment flickering in her eyes. He then gently lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Okay, that helped.

Still...
She looked up at him again, expression hopeful, maybe even a bit expectant. Waiting for—what exactly? She wasn’t sure. A declaration? Something that mirrored what she felt for him? Something poetic?
He had complimented her, yes. But it was so proper, so polite, like he was describing a painting in a gallery. Not the person who skipped lunch and spent three exhausting hours getting ready.
And then, as if it were the grand finale of the performance, he asked, “Violence, my beautiful date—may I have this dance?”
That was it? Nothing else? Hmm. Was it wrong of her to expect more? She didn’t want to be ungrateful or dramatic, especially not here in the middle of a glittering ballroom with fairy lights twinkling above them like stardust. But she had hoped for more—maybe just a bit more heart in his words. She didn’t voice it. No, she didn’t want to ruin the moment or cause a scene. And maybe—maybe—she was hoping for too much. Maybe Azzure didn’t feel as strongly for her. Not yet.

“There are more words in the dictionary apart from beautiful, Azz,” she thought, sighing internally. To him, she gave a casual shrug, playing it off with practiced ease. “Sure, let’s go.”
They walked toward the dance floor, weaving through clusters of laughing couples and swirling dresses. The music was energetic, not slow or romantic, and when they turned to face each other, Azzure slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her closer than she expected. She sucked in a small breath, trying not to look as stunned as she felt.
He extended his hand, eyes expectant. She placed her hand in his, trying to ignore the butterflies erupting in her stomach like confetti cannons. “Nope. No butterflies,” she told herself, trying to squash the giddiness. “Azzure should’ve said something more than just that. Focus, Violence.”

Still, as the music swelled and the two of them moved together, all of her inner monologue was drowned out by the rhythm of the dance. Their movements were quick, full of spins and dips that made her laugh without meaning to. Azzure was surprisingly good—graceful and sharp—and he never missed a beat. Violence, on the other hand, tripped over the hem of her dress at least twice, but each time, Azzure caught her without hesitation. He steadied her with such ease, like he’d been doing it forever. Her chest swelled at the way he looked at her when he helped her up. Not teasing, not exasperated—just kind. Warm. She found herself smiling. Actually, smiling. Genuinely enjoying herself. It was hard not to when Azzure was laughing, too. It was such a rare sight, and every time she saw his smile, it felt like a gift. His dimples—gods, those dimples—were her favorite feature. But honestly, his entire face was a masterpiece. From the way his eyes sparkled when he was happy to the way his jaw tensed when he was thinking. She could spend all day admiring him and still not get tired of it.

And then...
The doubt crept in. Like it always did. Did he feel the same? Did he think of her the way she thought of him? Was he just being polite? Was this just a date to him, or something more? Her smile faltered slightly, and she looked away. She didn’t want him to see. Didn’t want to let him know how much power he held over her mood. But she was sure it showed on her face anyway. She needed a breather. “Hey, hey, listen,” she said, breathless but managing a smile. “I’m a bit tired. Do you mind if we take a break for some time?” She didn’t wait for his response, already stepping away, her dress swishing around her legs as she headed toward the refreshment tables. On the way, she passed a few familiar faces so she offered small smiles, nods, the usual pleasantries. But her eyes gave her away. They held a sadness, a storm she tried to mask with polite expressions.

"Maybe I’m just overthinking. Again. Ugh." She knew she was. She always did. But the fear of getting hurt again, of losing someone who meant so much—maybe too much—was paralyzing. “Okay. Butterbeer. Or... pastry. Pastry first,” she muttered to herself, scanning the table. “Or both. I deserve both. And I need to stop being so paranoid about Azzure.” She inhaled, deep and slow. "He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be. He asked me to dance. He kissed my hand, for crying out loud. He likes me. Maybe just not the way I do. Or maybe he does, and he’s just bad with words." That earned a chuckle from her. "I’ll just talk to him. Nicely. No drama. Just be honest. Simple, right?"
She turned, ready to scan the crowd for Azzure—when she suddenly collided with someone. The impact wasn’t harsh, but it startled her. She stumbled back a step, her hand automatically reaching down to fix the skirt of her dress that had gotten tangled again. Her eyes flew up to the person she bumped into. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, flustered. “I didn’t see you there—are you alright?” Her eyes scanned their face quickly, concern etched across her own features. She straightened up, brushing her hair back nervously. Great. Just what she needed. A literal crash in the middle of her emotional spiral.

Head filled with thoughts he’d rather not think about, refusing to look in the direction Meyra went. He didn’t think he could bare to see her now. She said something about Raizel and even though he’d really have liked to dance with her as well, it wasn’t likely to happen this time. He was too afraid to ask himself any more questions about what happened just moments ago. Instead he focused all his energy on his still blank dance card. Why did he have to be so confused? He didn’t at all! He just needed to move forward and bury these feelings…deep…deep inside. That was really the only answer.

As he was walking, a girl ran into him, obviously not looking where she was going either! A perfect distraction! Dennis turned around to see yet another beautiful woman in a remarkable dresses seeming tangled up in its folds.

“Woah. Are you ok?” Dennis asked placing a hand on her elbow to help steady her as she untangled herself from her dress. If Dennis wore dresses he imaged he’d just be tripping and tangling all over the place! When she had herself sorted, Dennis asked, noticing her dance card, “This might be a little bit crazy, but we have dance cards, so…care for a dance?”

He waited patiently for her reply, and with her consent, he placed one hand in hers and the other, very respectfully on her waist and, now that he had warmed up, glided with ease with his new dance partner. “I’m Dennis by the way,” he said as they twirled around, his voice youthful and casual - anything to distract him from a certain girl. Dennis was light on his feet, finally starting to feel like himself again, but not going too fast, concerned for his new friend and her gown. “If I wore dresses, I’d never be able to dance, I don’t know how you do it! Its really amazing,” he said as they continued to waltz across the room.

This dance felt different, more relaxed and casual, the kind of dancing he really wanted to do. With every move, Dennis’ once tense demeanor loosened. There was something familiar and yet safe about this girl he couldn’t put his finger on. And refreshingly, there weren’t any pesky feelings getting in the way of a good time!

As the song ended, Dennis slowed down and, stopping, removed his hands from his partner. “It was really nice to meet you! I hope we get a chance to see each other again! I will definitely be able to remember you,” he said playfully, referring to how beautiful she was. He was definitely a lot more confident without a certain someone. He handed his card to the girl and signed her card, specifically remembering this time. Once the cards were all signed, he nodded his farewell to his partner and said, “I hope you find who you were looking for,” as he walked away back into the crowd.



Dennis found his way to the perimeter of the dance floor, feeling much better about his situation and, so long as he didn’t look in a certain direction, pretended like he was fine and absolutely nothing was happening! However, he was hoping for one more partner before he left to go to the Twisted Tavern.

That is when his eyes finally found Avis leaning on the wall seemingly waiting for someone. They had a wonderfully exciting duel last month that really changed his perspective on magic. Brave and dangerous, that was the impression she left on him. She was definitely someone not to be underestimated and as the freshman on the dueling team, he kind of looked up to her just a little bit. As he approached, he felt like he needed to say something witty, perhaps something entertaining. He was so thrown off by his previous experience though, that the usually confident Dennis was not himself at the moment. He figured whatever would come out of his mouth, hopefully was good enough.

He stopped in front of her and leaned on the wall, mirroring her posture. She didn’t really seem like she was having a good time. Perhaps he could change that! He smiled, and said “What brings you to a place like this, Avis?” Stupid. Ok. He should have another try. “Um…what I mean to say is, let’s dance!” Not much better but he offer her his hand and a side nod to the dance floor.

Mentioning: @Meyra Lancaster
Actions: Dancing with @Violence Bloodthorn, moving to ask @Avis Marlong to dance.
Notes: Slight godmod of @Violence Bloodthorn accepting the dance as planned and permitted

Equipment: Dogbreath Potion

Abilities: Fearless and Impartial

Sta: 5 | Eva: 8 | Str: 1 | Wis: 8 | Arc: 8 | Acc: 10

The Fit:

Reducio