The Garden of Eden Spring Ball 2025

Reducio

Outfit:

Speech - Thoughts

Hikari stepped into the Gardens with quiet measured steps, letting the stillness settle around him, the shift in atmosphere a reprieve from the vibrant chaos of the Spring Soiree. Here, the air felt softer, more serene, and the smell of strawberries floated by. He had come to attend the event due to the letter from his mother, gentle and pursuasive as always. Luckily, she hadn't been insistent about him needing to join the dance. The thought of a crowd of unknown people made his skin crawl.

The Garden of Eden had a serene, peaceful air and Hikari let out a breath he hadn't he had been holding, his gaze sweeping around, searching for the comfort of a familiar face.

Akari Kabukimono.

It wasn't about him, definitely not. Hikari would deny any allegations which said otherwise. Hikari Fujimoto did not go to events for a friend. Absolutely not. Still, there was something about the boy- too bright, too lively, so achingly kind, everything he was not, that drew Hikari to the boy.

His plan to spend the evening with the boy came to an abrupt standstill as he noted with muted displeasure, that Akari was infact, not alone. Then again, he wasn't sure why he was surprised. After all, the boy had a way of drawing people in, effortless as breathing.

Or perhaps those were just Hikari's thoughts.

He lingered in hesitation, should he go over? Risk engaging with someone new? Hikari rubbed his hands together, feeling awkward. Perhaps he could run? He was good at that.

But, maybe...it wouldn't be too bad.

Taking a moment to steel himself, Hikari walked to where the boy had been standing, smoothening his clothing subconsciously, "Akari." he greeted, letting a careful smile grace his lips, before turning to the other, "Hello, may I join you two?"

Action: Joining Akari and Edward
Sta: 5 |Eva: 6 |Str: 4 | Wis: 6 |Arc: 3 | Acc: 6

11/04/2025

"english" "french" "parselmouth" thoughts

outfit + hair

banner by Prat Pass | interacting as Archer Duncan

Archer was vaguely interested in what the approaching girl had to say.

This was not a product of general fascination of the human being, which Archer had never harboured in the first place, nor, he thought, would he ever, but the same way in which a scientist regards his proudest specimen. There was no need in reiterating that such a spirit of inquiry had not always led the young Duncan to the best of places, treating people in ways that sometimes made him land in their bad books. That, added to the fact that a. He was at this Godforsaken party already and b. He still had some decorum in him, prevented the boy from turning around immediately with a dismissive hand waved in the air.

Curiosity took the best of him and while he displayed no difference to what sort of conversation she would strike up. He watched with indifference as she smirked slightly, then let it fade away back into that poker face. Cocking his head and the only signal for her to continue he found a slight smirk of his own up his lips as the newcomer muttered something under muffled breath, barely loud enough for him to hear much less anyone else. He found the notion that she would have recognised him anywhere, much less a pureblood ball of all places, almost funny. The gatherings were social events that he found greatly irritating yet now missed the normality of. His father and he had attended nothing since the funeral.

“You must be mistaken then. I have not been anywhere doing anything in some time,” he said, voice wispy in the wind, as if it was soon to be blown away. He shook his head lightly and carelessly, the motion barely visible just as her words had been barely audible.

Sudden recognition struck Archer. A lowered head scribbling away in their weekly meetings, a name that at times cropped up on the papers he printed, a girl he ought to have known yet never bothered to inquire about. Not a particularly poignant force (unlike Oonagh, which proved the observation a positive one), her presence had not been one noticeable after their bare excuses of interactions. After all this time since the summer break when he was accepted on the graphics team their interactions had never extended beyond the odd “excuse mes” and “pleases” for formality. At most, he might have skimmed an article of hers or two, neither of soon were of particular interest to his niches but well-written enough. Soon, expression unchanging, he placed her name.

“But there’s no use pretending you don’t know me,” he begun, eyes flitting downwards as the tone remained all the same, lacking intonations or fluctuations. Perhaps at some point one would have smiled at this point as they ebbed closer to acquaintance, but Archer did not see why he was meant to exert social energy when she was the one who approached him, and not even without much interesting matters to bring to the table. “Roux,” he supplied before she could, “You write for the Headliner.”

Narrowing his eyes, he said finally in introduction and without further explanation, “Archer Duncan.”

11/04/2025

"english" "french" "parselmouth" thoughts

outfit + hair

Interacting with : Reducio + Open to interactions from any Hogwarts students or iNPCs!

Outfit: Reducio

Notes: Reducio Speech: #8e19d7 Thoughts: italics

Devon giggled quietly and smiled at the compliment. “Thank you,” she gave a quick twirl. As much as she loved to dance, she didn’t have any dresses that were exactly fantasy-related. So, she tried her best with it. She was glad to hear that it worked in this instance. “I like how the flowers pop with your outfit,” she continued. Glancing at her flower crown, she smiled at it, satisfied with her efforts. She slid it on her head, happy to have such a beautiful headpiece. It contrasted nicely with the peony that was already tucked behind her ear. If it was not obvious enough, she adored flowers!

A bright smile formed on Devon’s lips when Isadora accepted her offer. She was trying her best, after all. Shifting her green eyes over, she smiled at Cursa. “It was a pleasure to see you, Cursa,” she said to him, bowing into a quick curtsy. Even though she wasn’t trained in politeness, she tried her best. Growing up in New York, she never had anyone to practice with, anyway. Plus, she attended a muggle public school.

Devon nodded at Isadora’s question about the food. “Yes, please,” she replied. As she started to head to the snack table, she smiled at the other girl. “I’m sorry if that seemed abrupt. It looked like you were nervous,” she continued, her tone conveying her friendliness. “Have you had any of the snacks before? I came from the ball in the Great Hall and haven’t eaten yet,” she chuckled quietly, making sure not to raise her voice. “I’m curious if you’d have any recommendations?” She asked, smiling at Isadora, her movements were as graceful as ever. Tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she focused her green eyes on the other girl, giving an encouraging smile.

As much as she enjoyed visiting Hogwarts like this, she had no idea what was good to eat. Thankfully, her best friend, Kaitlyn, helped her a lot. But that didn’t mean they shared sweets often with each other. Plus, Kaitlyn wasn’t at the ball, so she’d be on her own for now. It wasn’t like she minded being by herself. She was a rather friendly young girl. Devon’s eyes glanced through the various snacks upon her arrival at the snack table.

Reducio

Note: 383 words

Action:
Talking to Isadora Vilaca (@Aleksandra FairBairn) and walking with her to the snack table. Said goodbye to Cursa McCoire (@Colin McCoire).

Lovely Creature | Calming Presence
Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 6 | Wisdom: 7 | ArcPower: 7 | Accuracy: 6

ACTION: Spending time with @AngelFyre McCubbinand scanning the grounds

INTERACTIONS: Currently with AngelFyre McCubbin, OPEN to additional interaction

Sta: 10 | Eva: 10 | Str: 10 | Wis: 10 | AP: 7 | Acc: 11
Relevant Abilities/Race:Dhampir - Fangs and Claws, Unsettling Aura TURNED OFF,
Healing Sage, Heightened Smell

Outfit

Reducio

Date: 11th April 2025

Noticing the raised brow and intrigued expression of the man before him he couldn't help but smirk, for the family reunion had been no less of a surprise to Lawrence as it was to Marcus now. With a dismissive motion he waved away the thought with his hand and offered simple words that left more questions than answers, "Director Vorozheykin, same roots different trees." Lawrence often spoke in metaphorical ways, a supposed side effect from his prophetic speech. While he wasn't about to get into the nitty gritty of his familial connections there was a clear appreciation for all of Marcus' words. The man seemed to have a kind soul that rejected the unsettling presence he emanated.

There would be no disappointment found upon Lawrence's face, instead bright eyes would portray unbridled interest for the gentleman's life who seemed to be a kindred spirit in travelling. Listening attentively he made a note mentally to discover more about the intricacies of Iwasaki at a more appropriate time for the gentleman seemed to be struggling with the ghostly present of a heat that did not exist. Coupled with the intimidating effect of his presence and Lawrence's astute knowledge of the stars he wondered if the man was suffering from the effects of the moon but being a solitary quiet type he would not pry. Instead he simply extended an offer he thought the man may appreciate in reward for his kind words, "Well Marcus, you are more than welcome on the shores of Tenūsa if you ever wish to extend that vast knowledge of travel."

Laughing slightly more abrasive than expected he couldn't help but derive joy from the compliment of the other professor. Not wishing to look a gift horse in the mouth he did not bother to inform the other that suits were the very last thing Lawrence would ever stock up on in his wardrobe or besmirch the apparent refined image he had curated. In truth, the entire party was quite lucky to have managed to get the man out of cargo shorts and an old tee with jeans at the highest end of his typical smart dress. And yet, Lawrence was no longer simply a man but a Grand Seer, a representative of an entire community and school, a burden yet to define its bounds. The warm wrinkles on his weathered face might've faltered for a second in woe had he not felt the barge of a small creature bump into him.

Marcus' motion to leave didn't fully process until he was gone with muffled words reaching deaf ears for Lawrence was entirely entranced elsewhere. The creature he had supposed was no creature at all shockingly but a young student with fiery red hair and equally fiery face; yet it was not her words nor spark that captured his vision but the traces that lay around her. Visions were not always linear to the man and they certainly were not always clear. The damned things tended to work on their own timeline and in his youth opposed any attempts of control that he attempted. This, however, was not one of those times. As the girls flushed face recovered from her overly formal but eloquent bow little fragments of light began to flicker around her face trailing away with her as she hurried off past the crowd.

Such particles were the manifestations of fate in which Lawrence perceived it, like breadcrumbs of a story that could be followed or dismissed. These were not the visions of cataclysm that he was used to absorbing harshly and cowering under but the simple fortunes of defining moment that may or may not come to be. Highly intrigued for he had not seen such a manifestation in some time he was desperate to follow the trail but first pleasantries were in order. Stumbling to catch the end of Marcus' farewell he shared in his grin and tipped a metaphorical cap saying, "Chookas!" to wish him well with fortune's favour. Then without hesitation he found himself drawn along the path laid before him tracing threads of fate until his eyes found the fire that would either consume or emblazon him.

Meandering up to the banquet table he searched the spread for anything delectable but nothing would be as tantalising as the act of procuring fate and seeing beyond. For a man who's visions so often spoke of destruction and personal torment he couldn't help but be drawn to the more mundane sights, flashes of a persons life that would encapsulate personal growth or struggles without shattering the very confines of his reality. Thus he moved in closer and closer until the haze of uncertainty around her began to solidify forming shape, a shadow. Then suddenly, like the very air in his lung began to silence and still he felt himself drawn in forcefully by a control he knew all too well but never fully adjusted to.

As his eyes grew lifeless paling into an almost snow white he found himself in an undefined space, a room with no defining features indicating its lack of importance to the vision itself. No, nothing around him was quite determined yet, a sign that such a time was not immediate rather a period further down her life line. As such his vision was drawn to the only thing of certainty, a pair of beings one a great flame the other a encompassing shadow; the dialect was a battle. Hollow words filtered through the space but non tangible enough to grasp, still the emotion was clear. Anger and confrontation painted the space around them as they both threatened to overbear the other. Then nothing, his vision returned and lacking control he grasped the shoulder of the young flame his lips a mouthpiece for a power greater than him. Tongue laced in riddle and fluent in prophecy out with his control he spoke, "Anger brews within you. No, not anger, hate, righteous fury. A flame fighting for the light, a shadow snuffing it out. One close to you, bonded by more than just fate. Your undoing and their own. Let the wise heed this warning, for the clash of Flame and Shadow will not end with words alone."

Then as soon as control became within his capabilities again he released her stretching out his locked fingers than cracked in the release from their captivity. Stumbling back slightly Lawrence's eyes shot wildly towards the girl who was no doubt overwhelmed with confusion and clearing his throat so that no more would whisp lace his words spoke, "My apologies miss, the sight is an unpredictable nature."

Trunk // || STA 10 | EVA 8 | STR 8 | WIS 15 | ARC 9 | ACC 10 ||
Seer Abilities: Intuition, Prophecy, Indiscriminate Knowledge, Fate Spinning
Year Abilities: Binding Mark, Evasive Manoeuvres, Apparition, Restricted Charms

| Interacting with @Marcus Iwasaki & @Nabi Park as Boram Borisova |
Prophecy requested by Boram Borisova

"Мое плечо... My shoulder..."

A low groan escaped her as the ache soon replaced the embarrassment from bumping into the tree trunk of a man earlier. Her hand attempted to soothe her arm while she continued to mutter under her breath, "Неужели он не видел, куда идет? Did he not see where he was going?"

Did she?

No, but of course Boram was too proud to admit she was the one at fault. He was taller, surely the troll should have seen her coming. Whatever. It was over. She would not see the man ever again.

Or so she thought.

"Everything alright?" A gentle voice said, she knew who the owner of the voice was. But did he sound... concerned? She turned to face Arno, a sheepish smile appeared on her face, was everything alright? To any other student? yes. To Boram, however, no.

Who did the man think he was to bump into her?

The hand that was once soothing her shoulder raised up gently, and she said in the closest tone to calm she could muster. "Да. Я в порядке. Yes. I am fine." She followed his gaze back to the man, "At least I didn't say something I shouldn't have, huh?..." Clearing her throat, she looked back at him, "I don't think I want to drink or eat anything from this place for now. Let's just find a place to sit down and enjoy some fresh air." Boram's signature smile appeared once again as she teased while gently nudging him, thinking he was saying that to avoid the adult, "Are you worried? I genuinely thought you were going to poke fun at me for nearly knocking down the old man..."

Her giggles were interrupted as she felt a grip on her shoulder, causing an involuntary yelp to escape her, and she stiffened. Boram's eyes widened, and the adrenaline of having been caught off guard made her pupils grow, hiding the once evident brown rings in her green eyes. Her heart palpitated in a pattern that reminded her of her time running around in her cousin's labyrinth garden, and her head snapped back to see who dared not only touch her but also jolt her.

What the fuck?

Boram's gaze met the man she had bumped into earlier, thinking he had not accepted the rather rushed apology, and decided to give her a few words of wisdom. Her mouth opened, about to ask what his problem was, when he spoke.

Words of wisdom, a riddle, a vision.

"Anger brews within you. No, not anger, hate, righteous fury. A flame fighting for the light, a shadow snuffing it out. One close to you, bonded by more than just fate. Your undoing and their own. Let the wise heed this warning, for the clash of Flame and Shadow will not end with words alone." Her heart skipped a beat as she heard the insane old man speak. What drink had he drunk, and could she have some of it?

Boram had always been emotional. Rage, being the one emotion she was most attuned to, like the color of her hair, it was bright. Some may even say too bright.

Blinding.

Wrath always had a way of blinding the host, often causing pain in its wake; Boram was well-versed in the pain her anger caused. Her anger was not a petty outburst, no.

It burned. It bled.

Like the fire of a dying sun, it was destructive in its very essence. A nature so strong that neither she nor her parents could ever fully tame. But the brighter the light, the darker the shadow. She felt the man's hold on her shoulder loosen, a weight lifting, while his words sank into her mind and a million things began to flood her mind: her parents, her aunt,

Her cousin.

What did he mean by undoing? Who's? Her words were caught in her throat and the man looked at her with such dismay that she felt her own breathing grow mildly heavy. Her eyebrows furrowed while her eyes darkened slightly. Did he just threaten her? "My apologies miss, the sight is an unpredictable nature." Sight? That only caused more questions.

Giving a small nod, she cleared her throat as well, still attempting to understand what had happened. Unlike her cousin, Boram had never been able to keep her composure. Her voice came out with a mild tremble, "It's alright, sir..." Boram's eyes were still wide, looking at him with confusion, unsure of what to say or even think. His words replayed in her mind, One close to me? Who? Did the man mean it literally? Her eyes flickered over to Arno, who was near her.

She was not very bright, but she knew Arno was someone she cared about...

The old geezer's words fueled her paranoia, which enveloped her like a thin blanket. Surely he did not mean to tell her that Arno and she would have a dispute... right? Nabi's voice echoed in her head. Her cousin had once told her of a tale she had once read in one of her annoyingly complicated books. Recalling how she rolled her eyes at Nabi because she had grown frustrated in keeping up with her metaphorical crap to which Nabi responded with, "Not everything is in a literal sense, Boram."

Was the old man talking to her metaphorically?

Can't she ever get a straight answer for once? She already had enough dealing with her cousin's... oddness to be dealing with some adult's riddle. Her eyebrows furrowed as slight annoyance began to bubble inside her, and suddenly it vanished. Wait- Did he mean who she thought he meant? If the lunatic was speaking in metaphors, only one person was closer to her than Arno was. Beginning to raise her hand to signal for him to wait a moment, she suddenly felt a hold on her.

And her words died on her tongue as she turned to look at Arno once again.

11 April - the evening of the Spring Soirée

t had crossed her mind that that it was a lot to ask of Colin to put his own date aside with Emily, for a short time anyway, to help her out with hers, but he came through for her as he always did. And because it was Colin, he had his own brand of fun with her request. It started out well enough. It was nothing to too fast or too dramatic, and that was a relief because it gave both Simon and herself time to adjust to, literally, dancing on air.

Colin behaved himself and choreographed a beautiful series of spins and dips as they stepped and twirled and glided effortlessly heads and shoulders above the other dancers. She and Simon were having a blast and could not keep their eyes off each other as they continued to make their wings flutter to add to the moment. She would have given anything to have been able to have had it taped so she could watch it later as she could not remember ever feeling so graceful. At one point, Simon drew her close and held her as they swayed in the manner of a waltz. It was at that moment that AngelFyre caught sight of Woofy. He looked liked a conductor in front of his orchestra, waving his arms in ¾ time with his wand as his baton. Then he got that look in his eye, that tell tale glint of mischief, and she knew it was likely their moments of peace and serenity were about to devolve into some sort of chaos.

She was not wrong.

Remembering he had referred to their beautiful floral crowns as “meat helmets” she considered his phraseology and whispered to Simon that he should prepare for the possibility of some hijinks coming their way. It was but two short exhalations later that she felt them spinning once again, but this time instead of spinning them latitudinally, Colin directed them into a 360° longitudinal cartwheel of sorts. She knew something was coming, and once it began, her thought was that she was glad she wore her tap pants beneath her skirt because this particular orchestration had the very real possibility of exposing her in a way that would not be too far a cry different from Simon’s infamous… but oh so adorable… promposal in the buff a year and a half ago. Her skirt definitely shifted in a predictably scandalous direction, but it was not as if it was resting over Simon’s arm or her head when he brought them back up. It flounced easily back into place and her sense of modesty was preserved.

And lucky it was for her lupine friend that it did.

Even so, she and Simon had to release one hand on each other to keep their floral crowns from flying off of their heads. Colin must have had fun with this move because he howled out an OWWWOOO before gyroscoping them 2 more times in quick succession. Good thing they were both broom racers, otherwise those moves might have quashed the lover’s enjoyment, but even Colin’s high-spirited playfulness could not interfere or interrupt their joy in he moment.

After he had had his fun, Colin settled down and gave her the lovely dance she had requested of him for the remainder of time left to them. When he brought them gently and safely back down to the ground, Simon’s eyes, dilated as they were, were smiling as he kept his gaze on hers.

“That was incredible, love. You are incredible,” he whispered as he stepped closer and kissed her chastely upon the lips.

“We are incredible,” she whispered back to him after the kiss, “but I admit to having some help. Colin was in charge of the levitating and choreography. I think we should consider a reprisal of that for our first dance at our wedding as husband and wife. What say you to that, Mr. Kincaid?” and she smiled coquettishly while fanning herself with her dance card.

“Do you mind if we go over and thank Colin? He did that as a favor to me at a cost to himself. That was three minutes of not being able to moon like the lovesick pup he is over Emily, and I know I would feel the pain of that eternity if I could not moon over you for even a fraction of that amount of time if the tables had been turned.”

Simon just grinned and offered her his arm once again as they headed in Colin’s direction, both of them reaching up to straighten their crowns along the way.

Reducio

OOC: Simon and AngelFyre have longstanding permission to godmod the character of the other, and so do Colin and AngelFyre.

Mentions: @Colin McCoire and @Emily Shephard