The Spring Soirée Spring Ball 2025

The ballroom was decorated. Children felt that strings of light could transform the place where they ate all of their meals into someplace grand. That the same massive portraits that littered the walls like an overpopulated shanty would seem newly regal under fresh light. Yet somehow they believed that with enough glitter, anything could be transformed. But that was the problem with appearances, with lies of the eyes. A peasant encrusted in gems is simply a crusty vagrant, nothing more.

He had asked Taylor to come with him this time. It was uncommon for their family to allow her to travel, in fact he was certain his father did not give Taylor clearance. The fact that they allowed her to visit Beauxbatons was telling. His father was up to something, he knew what sort of women she reported to. How dangerous they were. Why the women in their family were better tethered than left to run free. That said, Taylor looked radiant, dangerous in her own right, but Gideon didn’t see her the way others did. To them, she was simply beautiful, perhaps even delicate. She was his date. His cousin. A beauty. An oddity. A game piece to be both fascinated and repulsed by.

To Gideon, Taylor was something else. Something precious and unstable, even if she appeared controlled to the rest of the world, he saw the storm. She was a fire in a locked box. A mirror that showed him everything he wasn’t supposed to admit wanting. He wondered if all the women in his family were like this. If this was the true reason why they had to lock them all away.

That was a part of what bothered him. He suspected the change.

Gideon entered the Great Hall with Taylor at his side. She was dressed in something that seemed to steal color from the world around her with an icy grip. A stark contrast to Gideon's garments. His attire was, as always, meticulously curated. It was a foppish, decadent performance. Layers of embroidered velvet in oxblood and black, gold-thread filigree that crawled like veins across his cuffs, his collar, the taper of his waistcoat. A high collar framed his throat like a noose, and his cravat was pinned with a gilded brooch with the stone inside it that was a glassy red that could be mistaken for garnet. Or something fresher.

Gideon offered Taylor his arm, his expression not particularly jovial. he was distracted, serious-seeming, forcing a smile onto his pleasant face that was just a little too sharp. The room noticed. Of course it did. The Athanatos name always drew stares and unwanted attention.

But Gideon wasn’t watching the room in return. Not really. Let them waste their time staring at what they would not understand. He was scanning for threads. Loose ones. Fraying ones. Fragile little things just waiting to snap.

While the rest of the teens toasted and flirted, danced and spun beneath floating candles and fairy lights, Gideon was counting breaths. He was measuring cracks. He was finding where the foundations of these carefully kept superficial façades had begun to rot. Because he was not here to be seen, he was here to do what no one else would.

Gideon's eyes flicked to Taylor, the only creature in the room he could not entirely predict. The only one who might bite the hand that fed her. The only one who could ruin everything and perhaps, if she played it right, make it better.

But he knew that she was going to betray him. That the threads of fate shown that eventuality. What she did not know was what Gideon had planned. Gideon Athanatos didn’t make scenes, he made history. And someone, he had not decided who just yet, would never forget this night.

Interacting with: @Lyanna Oak, @Joseph Sims, @Mikey Foreville, and @Azzure Solace (please owl me for interactions!) Mentioning: N/A Date: 04/11/25

Word Count: 210

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Avery watched as Joseph danced with a girl she didn't recognize. It was almost funny to see her friend wearing the chicken costume and dancing a more formal dance. If anything, it made her smile. Even though Joseph had no idea what was going on with her, his costume alone had brightened her day in a way she could tell him without giving anything away to Dylan. She didn't want to ruin his night by telling him the bad news. Though she would tell him before Spring Break. He needed to know the truth. Even though it would be hard for both of them. As Avery watched the ball and dancing she happened to glance over at the drinks table when she saw a boy around her age stop dead in his tracks while staring at her. She smiled at him as he began walking towards her. She had never seen the boy before, but he seemed super nice by the look of his face. Avery began to walk a few steps towards him even though he was almost to where she had been standing with Dylan. She didn't want to be rude and make him walk all the way to them. "Hi. I'm Avery. What's your name?" Avery asked.

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Action: Meeting a new friend and chatting!

Stats: stamina ◦ 7 | evasion ◦ 3 | strength ◦ 7 | wisdom ◦ 7 | arcane power ◦ 4 | accuracy ◦ 7

Abilities:

's Grace

The Great Hall was transformed into a sparkling forray of overcompensation. The ceiling was laced with twinkling lights that glittered like falling stars above a grand space now soaked in honeyed light and floral-scented charm. It should have been one of those fairytale moments beholding the scene but Mathias saw none of it. He cared not for the fantasy, his feet were grounded firmly in reality.

Pride stood within the rambling masses, near the furthest edge. Around him was absolute nonsense. Drivel packaged like civility and networking, words that children knew but did not understand. Mathias was there all the same and as always, dressed sharply. Clean lines and dark satin cloth. His lanky form had grown broader over the past year, but the suit hid it well. Standing at 6 foot 3, it was easy to mistaken the teen for a beanpole. However, subtle hints at his familial wealth could be seen in his tailored garments. A subtle brocade along the hems with sleeves rolled just enough to show the ink etched across the veins of his wrists, another secret. His hazel eyes cut through the crowds, scanning, searching.

He was looking for them. By them, one means his lover and his family. Unlike Gideon, they were two seperate things.

For Winnie Harper, Mathias' intended, was somewhere in the chaos. Her likely soft pink dress was undoubtedly charming everyone but herself. That was her secret, her desire to hide behind the frills and flowers as if appearances can change the content of her character. Like she could replace wealth and class with 'aesthetic.' Like she could like about how she belonged by standing out willfully rather than passively. For a time it even worked. It was not just a belief, it was a victory. But now, since Gideon... Her laughter, when it came, was forced. Her smile? Fractured. That luminous little creature who once clung to life like it owed her something now wore her joy like a borrowed coat.

Winnie had been intense lately. Fragile in that exhausting, unpredictable way. Fearful of being alone, but never truly believing that she was in fact alone. Uncertain, somewhat predictable but only in her neediness. It was as if at any moment she might burst into tears, fall into a rage, or both. It made loving her feel like carrying a cracked porcelain doll through a minefield.

He did love her didn't he? Indeed, he did in his strange way. Tonight, they arrived separately. The only true respite he had was the fact that they both belonged to different houses. Winnie needed to preen and Mathias needed space. A moment to breathe. A moment to think, to plot.

Tonight wasn’t just about the waltz and butterbeer. No, tonight, his family was here.

For Gideon. His brother. The golden child, their mother's favorite. His father's preferred. Gideon was a beast in sheep’s skin. The one whose sin was accepted even as blood stained his hands and screams echoed in the minds of those he broke. His family did not care what he did, who he hurt. They were aware of the monster he was, perhaps they believed that they could chain him up and unleash him on his enemies.

Gideon had hurt Winnie. The teen had thrown her from a tower like she was a scrap of parchment caught in the wind. He broke her. Unmade her. Then he twisted a tale far too common among the women in their family, one of madness and desperation. That she had flung herself from the tower, unable to take the pressures of pureblooded life, of the name she would soon take and the marriage she would soon have. That she was, as the media expected of a muggle, weak and incapable, unprepared. While, these were tools he had planned to employ if necessary, they were not needed yet. Perhaps ever.

And now, coated still in sin, Gideon stood across the ballroom with their cousin Taylor on his arm like nothing ever happened. That charming little blonde puppet with her Russian accent and sweet demeanor, an act, no doubt. But for who? For Gideon, or for them all? She never fooled him, not entirely. He knew what she was. What they all were. Why there were no women in the main house. Why she had been relegated to the far reaches of Siberia after her father's death. Why she was meant to be isolated, locked away. Gideon knew too, but he did not seem to care. Mathias saw how Gideon looked at her. How he desired her, how she stirred something in him that was best left untouched.

The sight of them together made bile rise in Mathias’ throat. Gideon playing prince, Taylor smiling like she wasn’t standing beside a monster. It would be poetic, really, if it didn’t make him want to set the world on fire. Or at least the two of them.

But Mathias was in part responsible for this touching reunion. For Taylor's sudden liberties in travel. Father never would have signed off on a trip to France, or to Scotland for that matter. She was dangerous and heads would roll if it ever came to be know that she was given a pass. He needed access to her and she needed access to Giddy for it to hurt as much as possible. Sometimes the worst thing someone can do is give their enemy their way.

She and Gideon both thought she was welcome here.

Then there was Aamon, his half-brother and youngest in attendance, with a spine like a paper straw. A sniveling echo of their proud pureblooded bloodline. Always fumbling. Always whining. He wore the family name like a too-heavy cloak, constantly tripping over his own shadow. In truth, Mathias had no use for him. No pity, and certainly no patience. Aamon would break under the weight of power before he ever earned it.

And presiding over them all, unseen but omnipresent, like a cruel god carved from iron and fire was the family patriarch Thaddeus Athanatos. Father. Tyrant. Zeus with a wand. The man who had built them all, only to crush them beneath his heel whenever they dared to look him in the eye. Their eldest brother was already destroyed, destroyed by the very thing that made their family great. They always did warn that there would come a price and that it would be too great to pay, all Mathias could be thankful for was that someone else paid the toll for them.

Mathias did not know what his father's plans were for Gideon. Only that his younger brother was given what was always withheld from him, even from birth. While Gideon, whose parentage was shared, was given everything. Nothing was given to Mathias, except silence. The expectation was obedience. Control.

And Mathias learned how to bow at the expense of his Pride while wrath swelled within him all these years. It simmered beneath his skin like molten lead. He would not be forgotten. He would not be cast aside like a failed experiments or another woman the family had ruined. He would rise no matter what it took. If he had to cut through every brother, cousin, and sycophant in that family with their proud little crest, he would with a damn smile. He would kiss his father’s ring while holding the knife behind his back. When the dust settled, mathias knew that the last false prince would lay bleeding at his feet and they would all remember the name Mathias Pride. Not the discarded son, but as the last one standing.

He rose to his full height, shoulders squaring as his eyes swept the crowd, searching for a flicker of fire and lace, for her. For Winnie Harper. She had an aesthetic that made her stand out. He knew it was more a shield than an expression. It did not matter as he approached her, let her wrap herself in lace and flowers. Let the vines of ivy climb and leave a lovely novelty at his side.

Now that Mathias' brothers had arrived, any semblance of peace had been shattered like glass underfoot. He would find Winnie. A trembling lily hidden among the weeds, delicate and out of place in the choking garden of vipers. "I've been looking for you," Pride said, his voice as smooth and warm as his vestments. A lie, of course, one laced with terrible intention. A cruel part of him twisted her fear like a key in a lock, opening her just wide enough to pull her close. "You know Gideon’s here, don’t you?" he murmured, each word suffocating.

“I mean, the way I hear it, it just sounds like luck that students gather according to their houses to throw spells at one another. Funny how that happens from time to time, huh?”

Avis laughed, forgetting her attempts to look forward and meeting Dennis' eyes, laughter dancing within them. "So very coincidental, huh?" She appreciated his grin. It was a very trustworthy grin, as if he didn't know the awkwardness she was experiencing. Really, that grin probably didn't even know what awkwardness was.

Dennis' confidence reflected on Avis, and though she returned back to her awkward staring at something in front of her that may or may not be him, her steps fell a bit lighter, a bit sharper.

As they danced, Avis' mind strayed further and further from the dance. It wasn't Dennis' fault, not by any means. He was a wonderful dancer, always stepping just ahead of Avis, so she barely even needed to think about how she was dancing, simply followed his lead. It was this repetition, the pattern of rhythm that pulled her away.

Music was an escape, a chance for Avis to flee into her own thoughts and figure things out. Which was great in the looming in the silence of the rehearsal room, but here in this crowded room, it was not the most useful endeavor.

As they returned back to where they started, Avis took a step back and offered Dennis a small mock curtesy and a nod. She would have spoken some sort of medieval quote of appreciation, if she knew any. She did not, however, and so simply grinned at Dennis.

As he pulled out his dance card, she fumbled to pull out her own and exchanged it for his. Noting his already filled-out card, she added her name in quick, jerky letters before handing it back. Returning his nod of farewell, Avis returned to her spot against the wall, slightly bobbing her head to the music.

@Dennis Tumberton

Action: Dancing with Dennis, returning back to her spot
Open to Interactions!

Trigger Warning: Winnie is going through some tough times. Themes of depression and anxiety will be present in my writing.

Interacting: @Aly Salinger | @Mathias Pride

Outfit: Dress | Hair | Shoes

Mentioning: @Gideon Athanatos

English | Irish | Internal thoughts

She had not seen him at first, had been too focused on mentally screaming at Aly Salinger to glance her way when she saw her wearing the gown Winnie had let her borrow months ago. His shadow loomed over her, dwarfing her and blocking the glittering lights.

"I've been looking for you." She jumped, the sparkling layers of her dress swishing as she turned on her heel to face him.

"You found me..." She sighed softly, her relief obvious as her entire body relaxed at the mere sight of him. She wanted to leap into his arms and scream at him for 'sneaking up' on her all at once. Regardless, her glossed lips curved into a genuine smile, unlike the carefully practiced ones she'd been gluing on her face lately.

Then, he spoke again, "you know Gideon’s here, don’t you?"

Like a thread pulled too taut, she snapped, her smile fracturing. Her body recoiled, her painted nails digging tightly against the ruffles of her dress. Copper tresses whipped around her face as her wide blue eyes scanned the area surrounding them.

Bile raised in her throat when she caught sight of the golden haired Hufflepuff. There he stood, his facade of a sweet boy guarding him like a sheep's skin. MONSTER. HE'S A MONSTER. WHY CAN'T ANYONE ELSE SEE IT? HOW DO THEY JUST STAND THERE?

A whimper caught in her throat, and within a blink of an eye she was wrapping her arms around Mathias' middle and pressing her face against his chest to calm herself down. Don't let him see you staring. Smother it, smother the fear.

The Ravenclaw had been needy as of late, clinging on to Mathias and Evelynn in particular. In the span of two months she had been tossed off the owlery and then her father had 'mysteriously' died. She had felt hollow when she had learned of her father's death, and that scared her more than anything. She had even caught herself thankful that it had been him and not her mother. Still, she would often babble to Mathias about his death, pointing out that as a farmer he wouldn't have mixed those berries up. Winnie even tried to blame his death on Gideon despite all of them being in France when her father died.

"Of course he is..." Her voice was half-muffled against his chest, "Of course he's here. The universe loves a good joke, doesn't it?" She let out a laugh that sounded wrong, the way it twisted at the end and was cut short when she dared to peek at him again from her position pressed against Mathias. She caught sight of his date this time, recognition striking her.

She's there, that girl, she's... Run, run from him, don't trust him. She pulled back a bit to gaze up at Mathias, her glossy lips smudged slightly. Her eyes were glossy but not with tears. There was too much going on inside her head.

"The girl next to him... I know her. She visited me when I was in the hospital. Her name is Taylor..." Athanatos. How could she be so damn stupid? How could she have forgotten Taylor's surname? She hadn't remembered much when Taylor had visited her, so the name didn't mean much to her, but now...

Taylor. She had known.

Her frame shook, but not from fear. "She knew," she hissed through her teeth.

The gala filled up quickly with underclassmen, as was fairly usual, but for the most part Aly's eyes simply passed over them as though the children were nothing more than the decorations on the walls or the crystals dangling from the chandeliers. Some were shouting, some were dancing, some were eating or drinking, but for the most part, all were simply existing, and nothing stood out to Aly as being particularly out of the ordinary.

Until the ordinary turned upside down, because the extraordinary entered: the dress-lender herself, @Winnie Harper. The moment the redhead stepped into the room, her scarlet locks as intricately pinned and braided and curled as the most complicated and expensive of baskets, Aly suddenly knew why her younger friend had been so willing to hand off the green dress with its white butterfly appliqués to wear for this particular endeavor. The gown Winnie wore in its place, iridescent and colourful and rainbow without being over-the-top, was absolutely the most stunning article of clothing Aly had ever seen; everything about it - the cut, the flow, the fabric, the wings, the florals, all of it - was simply beyond reproach. Upon entering the ballroom, Aly had felt like the belle of the blossom ball; now, it felt like no one could compare to Winnie. And yet, the sixth-year Ravenclaw was not jealous. Perhaps because she had grown as a person, perhaps because she was more emotionally mature now - but perhaps because Winnie was such a dear friend to her, and because if anyone deserved to be the showstopper, it was Winnie.

As such, Aly picked up the soft, light tulle of her own borrowed gown, clutching layers in her delicate fingers, and bounded across the ballroom to say hello to her friend. Winnie seemed to see her, too, giving her a wave, and Aly skidded to a stop beside her friend with a bright grin, her curls bouncing around her shoulders in a wave of silky brown locks. "Win! Ahh, you look stunning," she enthused, leaning forward to grasp the other girl's delicate shoulders in a tight, but brief, semblance of a hug. It always felt good to see the redhead back in public after her horrifying leap from the Owlery the previous semester; a return to the old Winnie, or at least slightly so.

Still, no sooner had she let her friend go than another figure appeared - not quite twice Aly's height, though he definitely felt as though he towered over her, and as scarlet-locked as Winnie herself - sweeping Winnie into his own embrace. Mathias. Aly squared her shoulders back, giving her friend's fiancé a look that was somewhere between a begrudging approval and awkward embarrassment. It felt, suddenly, as if she was intruding on their moment - and perhaps she was, as wasn't this the first ball since the proposal itself in the fall? Not that Aly had been there for that, but she'd certainly heard the rumours and, for a good long while, disliked @Mathias Pride strongly for entrapping her friend so young. His actions since, though... while perhaps they had not endeared him to her, at least they had helped her to tolerate him to the point of accepting the engagement. After all, if Winnie was happy, then Aly was happy for her. And so she greeted the tall redhead with a smile that was not quite so bright as that which had been for Winnie, but was certainly not as tight-lipped as it would have been months before. "And Mathias. Sorry - I'd just come over to say hello to Win, didn't mean to interrupt."

They'd begun to speak to each other in low voices, and rather than try to eavesdrop, Aly took a step back and glanced about. She didn't want to leave Winnie alone with Mathias if something were going on, but at the same time, intruding on whatever private goings-ons they had between them didn't quite seem like the kindest thing a friend would do.

Date: 11 Apr 2025 Word Count:879 Interacting: @Robin Marie

____. ___Open to Interactions

Thoughts / Spoken #cd5f5f /#862327 Soiree Post #: Third

Dress Reducio Odette's 11yrs old so imagine a more appropriate neckline haha

Hair Reducio

Floral Armlet Reducio

Shoes Reducio

Pendant Reducio

“Shit, Odette, you’re the hottest witch here. I’m just a - wait, did you say chicken?... And his date?” Robin stutters, perplexed. Oh good, she was worried that the curly-haired witch may have seen them already. Thankfully, Odette is able to bear witness to her friend’s amusingly gobsmacked expression.

It’s common for Robin to go an unsettlingly long amount of time without blinking when she’s hyper-focused (Odette mentally times her occasionally- her record is three minutes and seventeen seconds). It doesn’t often happen as the witch isn’t one for lengthy eye contact, so the fact Robin is unblinkingly staring into her soul over a chicken costume makes Odette let out an unladylike cackle. Nearly spraying her friend with the treacle tart in her mouth. Of course, this is what grabs the hyperactive witch’s undivided attention, “Please explain, or I’ll lose my mind.”

Odette’s uproarious laughter mellows to a snicker as she recounts, “Not much to say, really. I just happened to pass someone in a chicken costume. His wing almost took me out, but I managed to save our food. Y’know, typical soiree stuff.” The blue-eyed witch shrugs nonchalantly like that outfit is normal, “Ah, right, he was also holding a rock in a chick costume. Anyway! What have you been up to while I was gone?”

“Oh! And yeah- I think the only thing you missed was that some girl I don’t know waved at me. Why do you think she’d do that? She could be a Veela.” Robin shivered fearfully.

Odette highly doubts that the girl is a veela. The light-skinned witch probably says that about twice a week. It used to be twice a day when the muggle-born first learned about the alluring creatures. Maybe even hourly, now that she thinks about it. The point is, “Robin, you say that about every pretty person you meet. I’m offended you never thought I was one.”

Odette sniffs haughtily. To think her friend just called her the hottest witch here, too! If Robin isn’t glaring at her in suspicion of her species and fear for her autonomy, then she clearly is not hot enough! “It’s time to admit that you’re just weak for anyone remotely good-looking. If I were you, I’d worry more about a traditionally attractive person since they are way more common than a veela.”

Idly chewing her pastry, Odette thinks back on all the times Robin encountered someone pretty and holds back a wince. Pointing her half-eaten tart at the witch, she laments, “To sum it up, you’re screwed. Veela or not.”

“Just tell me about the poultry,” Robin mumbles in embarrassment, quickly digging into her plate. The blue-eyed witch sighs a bit guiltily. She knows of her friend’s fear and may have teased her a bit too harshly. It’s easy to forget at times that Robin is a muggle-born and hasn’t had as much time to get used to magical creatures as she has. It’s fair to be worried about consent, but the circumstances of a veela are more layered than the witch understands.

Looking out at the rest of the hall, Odette tries to find the witch that has Robin so wary. Girls from nearly every year are swaying across the dance floor in a kaleidoscope of colors. Their smiles are enchanting in their own rights as their partners twirl them in delight, their skirts fluttering like a shimmering wave. Sitting at tables, witches converse with each other, releasing a cacophony of giggles that sound like a melody of orchestral wind chimes. Near the food platters, witches stuff their faces with meat and cheese until they resemble chipmunks... After a moment of thought, Odette concedes they’d probably charm Robin, too. Who doesn’t like someone with a fondness for food?

Truly, any of these witches could be the one who waved at Robin.

Swallowing the last morsels on her plate, Odette eyes the witch beside her. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking with the perpetual smirk on her face. Is Robin still worried about the girl who waved? Is she thinking about the alluring effects of veela’s? Is she thinking about something else entirely?

Narrowing her eyes at Robin like she’d be able to read her mind if she squints enough, Odette lets out a defeated sigh. Nothing. Her mind is impenetrable. She can only hope her friend is having a good time at the soiree, but the reminder of Robin’s unease keeps niggling at the back of Odette’s mind. Surely, there’s something she can do to alleviate her worries?

Suddenly, a brilliant idea pops into her mind, “Robin! You know what we need to do? We need to build your hottie tolerance!”

Odette begins nodding her head as the idea takes root. Acting as if it’s not absolutely mad. “It’s the only way to protect yourself from a veela and help you make it through care of magical creatures and transfiguration without stuttering when the professor calls on you.”

Yes, this plan could be Odette’s magnum opus. It will cure Robin’s worry about veelas, make her less suspicious of pretty people, and make sure she has fun at the soiree. A perfect trifecta. The solution is so simple, too! “All you have to do is ask someone good-looking to dance. Easy, right?"

Action: None
Mentions:@Joseph Sims' amazing costume | @Kaitlyn Connor as Devon being pretty (the prettiness is somehow integral to our plot)

◦ S T A T S ◦

Stamina: 7 || Evasion: 7 || Strength: 0 || Wisdom: 7 || Arcane Power: 5 || Accuracy: 9

XXXX"Awwe, thank you!" Eonaria exclaimed happily, doing a little twirl to let the flowy fabric of her dress get some floaty action. The Ravenclaw easily countered her semi-protest about roles, simply tilting her head and smiling as they moved to the dance floor. Here, in the middle of the Great Hall, Eonaria could appreciate the vastness and sheer effort that must have gone into meticulously arranging the decor, even with magic.

XXXXOf course, she had had ample time and space to examine the decorations when she first arrived, when there were minimal amounts of people, but treading into the middle of the mostly-empty-other-than-furniture hall had been rather intimidating. Was I seriously getting intimidated by a nice-looking room? Eonaria questioned herself in bewilderment. Shush! I'm used to smaller spaces, okay?! Her mind proceeded to defend itself. Indeed, her home was not quite so extravagant.

XX

XXXXSabrina took the lead, guiding the pair into a slow dance, which seemed slightly out of place in this merry setting. Maybe it is better that I get to be the lady today, Eonaria grinned to herself. I know how to lead, but not too well, and definitely not in a crowded space like this. Brie started the conversation, which was probably to fill what would otherwise be an extremely awkward silent dance. "It has been quite some time!" She agreed brightly, beaming at her best friend. "I've been good! You know... schoolwork, and stuff. Classes are starting to get a little heated." Eonaria meant this literally, as they had learned quite a bit about fire in Herbology. "Overall, average. And you?" She asked. Eonaria fell into the practiced steps of the dance quite easily, enjoying the waltz as the pair... er... rotated? That felt like a strange way to describe it, but indeed, amidst the steps, they were technically turning.

XXXXEonaria giggled at Brie's inquiry, shaking her head. "Both, I suppose. I was enjoying the conversation, but you did give me a wonderful way out since it seemed to be mostly ending." As they made the next turn, her gaze drifted across the hall to the spot where Dev and Lucy had been standing prior. Oh? They're gone. Huh, I might encounter them again later.

XXXXThey eventually came to a stop, and Eonaria straightened up happily. "Phew! Thank you for the dance, Brie!" She beamed, tugging her butterfly card off of her wrist. "I almost forgot about this," she joked. "Er... I don't suppose you have a quill? I was not expecting to have to sign things when I came down from Gryffindor Tower..."

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

Action: Dancing with @Sabrina Lyons, briefly mentioning @Lucy Channing and @Kaitlyn Connor as Devon
I'm usually good at estimating the time it takes me to actually write replies, but these Spring Soiree replies have been taking an average of ten minutes longer than my estimates...! xD

The world around him faded to a dull hum and time seemed to slow as Mikey moved towards the girl standing a few meters away. He took a step noticing that her hazel eyes pierced right through him and he felt a tingling move up his arm when he met her gaze. Another step closer and his eyes moved to see her brown hair flowing down just past her shoulders. He took yet another step forward meeting her eyes once more as she took a step forward to meet him.

"Hi. I'm Avery. What's your name?" She said and his world snapped back into place around him.

He was at the Spring soiree and standing right in front of the girl who took his breath away. He made a quick mental note that it must be moments like this that inspire poets and artists to write verse. Realizing he wasn't a poet he decided this information was in fact useless to him and he had better respond to Avery before the silence became awkward.

"I'm, Mikey." He responded almost forgetting his name in the process. What is wrong with me? he thought. He knew he was a far cry from the most suave and confident person but he normally had more decorum and swagger than this. His heart was racing as he gave a bow and reached out his hand. "Will you dance with me?" He asked feeling a little ridiculous at this gesture but it did seem to fit the environment of the soiree.

Action: Asking @Avery Gray to dance

STATS
Stamina ◦ 5 | Evasion ◦ 6 | Strength ◦ 4 | Wisdom ◦ 8 | Arcane Power ◦ 6 | Accuracy ◦ 6