The Spring Soirée
banner by the COOLEST haven bohannon 
RPing as Cyrus Alexander Darsel (Ilvermorny iNPC)
The 'fit: it's yellowish and medieval I swear. but he's wearing converse. I don't make the rules.
After having laid eyes on Haven, Cyrus's grin never left his lips. He couldn't tear his gaze from Haven's beautiful sea-green eyes; he had to hold back from reaching out to gently hold the side of her face. He could not stop studying her—from the way she smiled when she saw him, to the soft cadence of her voice when she spoke, her beauty was truly in the eye of the beholder. And he would trade it for nothing, not anything at all.
He nearly missed her compliment about his eyeliner; he had been distracted, his gaze tracing constellations as the candelight from the ceiling illuminated the freckles on Haven's face. He let out a half-breath, 'Oh!' before laughing and having to stop himself from crushing her in a bear hug. 'Thank you! I was hoping you'd like it, aah!'
He worried Haven would be able to hear the pounding of his heart in his chest when they began to dance. He did his best to recall the etiquette and dance lessons his father had told his aunt to make him attend when he was younger, and soon enough, they were dancing perhaps the simplest waltz ever. One, two, three. One, two, three. He murmured the pattern of the steps underneath his breath just in case Haven was unsure: 'One, two, three...'
But he couldn't really focus on the music. It was beautiful, yes; this year, the Hogwarts ball planners really had gone above and beyond. But maybe the true beauty of it was that he was here with Haven. That very well could have skewed his perception, as her personality was as lovely as if it had been painted by Botticelli, and her eyes continued to sparkle like the lovingly-illustrated oceans of an Aivazovsky landscape. Her existence only solidified the fact that the world was inherently a romantically lovely place fuelled by the force of good; nothing else could have justified the level of exquisite splendour that Haven possessed.
He was so caught up in his enamoured thinking that he zoned out from the music and instead focused entirely on the feeling of Haven in his arms. As such, when she stumbled over his feet, he was too unfocused to right them; he scrambled to hold her upright so that she didn't fall, all while his heartbeat sped up for more reasons than simply panic. He felt something brush against his neck, and he felt Haven's hair against his chin, and his face became even redder than it had before.
But she righted herself on her own, quickly enough for him to back up. Something hit his toes hard, and he briefly let go of her only to realise she had accidentally stepped on his feet in her quest to get right-side-up. 'Are you okay?'
He did not ask if she had meant to maybe-kiss him. He did not ask if it was a maybe-kiss. Instead, he pulled her close once again and gently swayed to the music. Once or twice he would lift up his hand so he could spin her. Students began to leave the Great Hall, and they were some of the only couples still remaining, something that made him hope Haven wouldn't get bored of his mediocre dancing skills.
His breath caught in his throat when Haven leaned closer and put her face next to his. He expected a kiss, actually, and his heartbeat sped up because he had never had a proper kiss and was unsure what to do. Thankfully, her lips missed his and instead came to pause by his ear, where she whispered — whispered! — and asked him if he would like to go outside.
'I—yes, of course, anything for you!'
He nearly missed her compliment about his eyeliner; he had been distracted, his gaze tracing constellations as the candelight from the ceiling illuminated the freckles on Haven's face. He let out a half-breath, 'Oh!' before laughing and having to stop himself from crushing her in a bear hug. 'Thank you! I was hoping you'd like it, aah!'
He worried Haven would be able to hear the pounding of his heart in his chest when they began to dance. He did his best to recall the etiquette and dance lessons his father had told his aunt to make him attend when he was younger, and soon enough, they were dancing perhaps the simplest waltz ever. One, two, three. One, two, three. He murmured the pattern of the steps underneath his breath just in case Haven was unsure: 'One, two, three...'
But he couldn't really focus on the music. It was beautiful, yes; this year, the Hogwarts ball planners really had gone above and beyond. But maybe the true beauty of it was that he was here with Haven. That very well could have skewed his perception, as her personality was as lovely as if it had been painted by Botticelli, and her eyes continued to sparkle like the lovingly-illustrated oceans of an Aivazovsky landscape. Her existence only solidified the fact that the world was inherently a romantically lovely place fuelled by the force of good; nothing else could have justified the level of exquisite splendour that Haven possessed.
He was so caught up in his enamoured thinking that he zoned out from the music and instead focused entirely on the feeling of Haven in his arms. As such, when she stumbled over his feet, he was too unfocused to right them; he scrambled to hold her upright so that she didn't fall, all while his heartbeat sped up for more reasons than simply panic. He felt something brush against his neck, and he felt Haven's hair against his chin, and his face became even redder than it had before.
But she righted herself on her own, quickly enough for him to back up. Something hit his toes hard, and he briefly let go of her only to realise she had accidentally stepped on his feet in her quest to get right-side-up. 'Are you okay?'
He did not ask if she had meant to maybe-kiss him. He did not ask if it was a maybe-kiss. Instead, he pulled her close once again and gently swayed to the music. Once or twice he would lift up his hand so he could spin her. Students began to leave the Great Hall, and they were some of the only couples still remaining, something that made him hope Haven wouldn't get bored of his mediocre dancing skills.
His breath caught in his throat when Haven leaned closer and put her face next to his. He expected a kiss, actually, and his heartbeat sped up because he had never had a proper kiss and was unsure what to do. Thankfully, her lips missed his and instead came to pause by his ear, where she whispered — whispered! — and asked him if he would like to go outside.
'I—yes, of course, anything for you!'
Date: 11 April 2025
Time: evening
Location: Hogwarts Great Hall
Mentioning: @Haven Bohannon
Actions: none yet
Stats/Abilities:
Reducio
Stamina: 10 - Evasion: 10 - Strength: 10 - Wisdom: 10 - Arcane Power: 20 - Accuracy: 17
Obnoxiously Strong
Fearless
Impartial
Charmer
Poison Resistance
Spell Spread
Wandmaker - Phoenix Feather
Obnoxiously Strong
Fearless
Impartial
Charmer
Poison Resistance
Spell Spread
Wandmaker - Phoenix Feather
Last edited by Cyrus Darsel on 23 Jun 2025, 17:13, edited 1 time in total.
[pc] koko riddle · 'i was raised up to be admired.'
'hey! bom bom bom. got any grapes?' · cyrus darsel [inpc]
The Spring Soirée
IVAN BASKAKOVA | Иван Баскакова.
iNPC | ENCY | DURMSTRANG | YEAR 1
stamina ◦ 7 | evasion ◦ 6 | strength ◦ 4 | wisdom ◦ 8 | arcane power ◦ 5 | accuracy ◦ 6
ACTIONS | Drinking a drink. ABILITIES | Lovely Creature.
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| XXXXXX | Drowning in displeasure, the odd taste left in his mouth upon consumption of the drink he had picked up earlier had only left the rage deeply rooted within him, to partially grow the longer Ivan remained in proximity to his himbo twin brother. Fortunately, his quick thinking enabled him to deduce there had been some tampering done, bitterly tasting peculiar notes intwined with the drink, forcing him to quickly place the drink down. Akin to his earlier youth spent as a bookworm, he'd read intensely about spiking, though, not much on the potion itself — but, those were the least of his worries. Shifting his attention onto the poor soul he had chosen as a sacrificial lamb in desperation to free himself from Melor. As his face remained stoic, he inched closer to the newfound subject, momentarily observing their features and noting the polite smile plastering their face, one Ivan attempted to mimic, though, less flattering given his inability to convey emotion with meaning. "Is the accent that thick?" He mumbled, instinctively frowning at the realisation his relentless studies were evidently to no avail, much to his displeasure and ego. Ivan had tirelessly aimed to achieve better grades than Melor, his effort, naturally, became an obsession, seeking to advance in areas his twin had failed to do so — the comment leaving a sting with displeasure evident on his delicate features. "The pleasure is mine," he flatly began once more, "My name is Ivan Baskakova, first year at Durmstrang. Though, the year has been rather uneventful, much like this ball." Ivan frowned, diverting his eyes to the ongoing ball, which quickly became lacklustre compared to advertised event at the institution, prompting a trip out of his desired solitude and thrusting him into a foreign atmosphere. He was not one for change, often finding comfort in routine's he built and further strengthened by both his upbringing and curriculum, yet, the visit was yet to bring something intriguing to the boy, already growing bored and desiring nothing less than returning to his dormitory to bask in another historical book and broaden his knowledge. Though, a part of him, urged him to stay and seek connections. Besides, it was mentioned in a chapter of "How To Step Out of Your Comfort Zone", a book he had read upon the new semester which thrusted him into an entirely new environment. Immediately he noticed Ariam adjusting their clothes, quickly noting the choice in attire, and partially on theme unlike most, including himself. "Nice outfit." Ivan commented, furrowing his brows at the figure, in a feeble attempt at lightening the mood, another tip he'd learnt from one of the books he read; though, not too keen on small talk, preferring to usually remain silent and observe, like the onlooking social outcast he was. "It must be nice to attend events like these, though, I must say, I'm not the best at socialising, so forgive me if I sound peculiar at times. We don't tend to converse in English where I'm from and I've only learnt how to communicate through self study." Ivan resumed, maintaining a flat tone, which would likely indicate a lack of interest in communicating, despite feeling latter. Swiftly turning his head, to momentarily observe the attendees once more, he noted the couples waltzing away. With another motion, he noted how Melor had begun conversing with someone, instinctively rolling his eyes and sympathising with the poor soul who had become subjected to such a boring boy. Soon, a thought creeped into his mind, forcing Ivan to shift his gaze back to Ariam, forcing a small smile which annunciated his singular dimple. This time, he attempted to convey sincerity, portraying himself in a more fascinating manner, chiming lightly, "Ariam, would you care to dance?" |
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@Ariam Vargas, @Melor Baskakova |11 MARCH 2025 | 627 W/C | OUTFIT | #781111
The Spring Soirée
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Interacting ! Melor my baby
Word Count ! 500
Dialogue ! #0a2457
TBA ! Outfit
@Melor Baskakova ! Mentioning
Stamina: 7 ☆ Evasion: 6 ☆ Strength: 3 ☆ Wisdom: 7 ☆ ArcPower: 4 ☆ Accuracy: 8
Action: Speaking to Melor Baskakova
| xxxxxx | xxxx Gazing upon the disgusting assortment of sugar and carbs on the table didn’t make them any less appetizing; in fact, it only worked to make her stomach curl inwards in warning. But she hadn’t eaten in preparation, and would most likely wouldn’t eat again until the following morning–she had to eat something. Her fingers continued to twitch nervously at her sides, begging her to grab something to soothe her flaring nerves. As if the gods had heard her quiet prayers, her hand was quickly taken in another’s–one she didn’t recognize. The grip was tight–hand thicker, more boyish than that of a woman’s; it didn’t take long for Hana to quickly infer her new companion to be a male, a sentiment his voice only enforced. But when he began to speak, his words were laden with an accent she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Was it some sort of European accent? It differed from the typical English accent typical to Hogwarts–which were typically more airy, easily understood. But his words were heavy, as if the accent was weighing them down. Then she felt a pair of lips pressed against the glove of her hand, leaving a whisper of an imprint on the fabric. She blinked up in surprise–such a bold action from a stranger. Was this some sort of a form of greeting? “Such an emboldened introduction–tell me, do you typically insist on capturing young ladies by the wrist and kissing them?” Hand still cradled in his, she slowly turned to fully face the new presence. Unfortunately, the dark veil obstructed a majority of her view, making the boy difficult to see. The young Bakir leaned forward, a meek attempt to make out his face amongst the dim lighting of the Great Hall. Hm. In an instant, she seized his face in her bony claws, dragging him upwards; long fingers rested on his cheeks, the young girl’s head tilted slightly as she observed him–eyes fluttering around his face. Oh, he was beautiful. The young Bakir took a moment to take in the boy’s appearance, eyes slowly dragging along the features of his face. The golden light above basked his face in a halo-esque fashion, painting the top of his face in an aureate glow. From his enrapturing eyes to his luscious dark hair, the young girl couldn’t help but compare him to the main character in novellas the youngest would jestingly read to her after tucking her into bed. Hm. After a moment of silently gazing upon him, the young girl finally spoke up. Her words held their typical dry tonality, she didn’t speak in the usually brisk tone; her words were soften, spoken tentatively. “You’re quite beautiful,” she noted lightly, retrieving her hands. Quickly, they clasped together behind her back. “Hm, how do you know my family name? How do you know me?” she inquired monotonously, the small flicker of curiosity hiding behind dulled eyes, “I do not recognize you from any family gatherings… only those in the Bakir social circles would be aware of such a name. Reveal yourself, now.” Insincerely, Hana Bakir ────────────────────────────────── xxxxxOOC Notes: This reply is so shein im sorry TT; perms from melor’s creator to godmod
| xxxxxxxx |
The Spring Soirée
| IC date: 11th of April | Interactions: @Ivan Baskakova |
| English: #203731 | Spanish: #d47121 |
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The displeasure on Ivan's face did not go unnoticed by Ariam, his words did take some effort to identify but wasn't lost. "The accent, it wasn't that noticeable, I have an uncle who lives in Russia, uh-" Crap, what was that city called again? The uncle's existence was true, the man Ariam's aunt married, judging by the few times they have met and their father's comments he seems like a nice man. Though to be frank Ariam's mention of him was more of an excuse then anything, managing to - was offend the right word? The boy seemed more disappointed then anything - so soon in an interaction was disheartening at best. "Vladivostok, they live in Vladivostok, I haven't been though, hopefully I would one day." Russia seemed nice enough, Ariam can't say they would enjoy the cold, who would want to live out there where you have to wear all those thick coats just to go outside? Seems annoying to deal with.
"Ah, that is a sentiment I can agree with. It feels like the only thing exciting have been my duels, the inter-school sports at summer camp should be exciting." Hopefully it wouldn't turn out like last years... They were a duelist with an ego, and that defeat was one that gave both Ariam and their ego a beating. "Even here in Hogwarts it feels like there is not much to do, I've been spending most of my time with the piano in that rehearsal room here. It is nice, but I do look forward to going back home to my own." Their own piano, and their own family, perhaps it would be easier to talk about the worry for studies that their father inflicted on Ariam in person, rather then in the few letters they shared over the year. If it weren't for the twins begging Ariam doesn't know if they would write any owls at all, Father is hardly the talkative type, even mother seems to be occupied these days.
Well, their family was hardly the thing they should be thinking about here, there are far better things to do then worry. "Thank you, I don't think its quite as nice as my dress last year but I do enjoy it." Ariam replied with a smile more genuine then the polite they wear so often. Themes, so many themes, every year there's another theme for the ball, the one last year made for a better excuse to wear nice clothes but at least this one saved them some thought about what to wear. "Oh don't worry about it, you sound perfectly fine." Ariam tried to reassure him. "Does that mean you don't attend social events much? My father often makes me go with him, most of the time it's not too bad, at least there's good food and drinks that are not tampered with." At least there's music here, one thing these balls don't cheap out on, probably because it's the "main event", the dance floor is always crowded with people, most of them seem like they're enjoying themselves.
Even though their thought drifted to the dance floor, an invitation from Ivan wasn't quite what Ariam was expecting, but it is not unwelcome. "Sure, I would love to." They said while extending a hand out, happy to lead towards the dance floor, luckily, the waltz is a dance they did know.
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- Action: N/A
- Stats:
stamina - 6
evasion - 7
strength - 0
wisdom - 8
arcane power - 9
accuracy - 10 - Abilities: Perfectionist & Advanced Casting
The Spring Soirée
MELOR BASKAKOVA | МЕЛОР БАСКАКОВА
iNPC | ENCY | DURMSTRANG | YEAR 1
stamina ◦ 9 | evasion ◦ 4 | strength ◦ 7 | wisdom ◦ 8 | arcane power ◦ 2 | accuracy ◦ 5
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| XXXXXX | Melor let a smug smile play across his thin darkened lips, amused at her response to his actions as he stood, still, half-bowed in her presence. He didn't bother fixing the loose strands of his framing hair pieces that acted as veil over his face, or maybe he was too accustomed to the light brushing of the locks that constantly hid his vision even despite the fact his long hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. "Only zeye onye's vho captahryegees attyenteeon as mahch as yoah my dyear," The crow twittered, a mocking tone lacing the pungent syllables, each one filled with purpose and meaning as if every single one was carefully articulated before leaving his beak. The next instance would be enough to be written into the lines of historical records, as it was the first time Melor ever found himself caught off-guard by another person. The crow could do nothing as he looked helplessly as his dark charcoal eyes widened with surprise as the gloved claw he held instead grabbed his face. Her nails creating half-moon indentions on his face, pulling it up so it was no longer down-casted and banished to the shadows, he could see every curvature in her face as clear as a wine glass from the proximity. He practically choked on his own breath as it caught in his throat from the pure shock of it, as she... Studied his face?! Who was this girl and who did she think she was? Just as he was about gain his barings she withdrew them back into the safety of her own space, the card dangling on her rest freely. “You’re quite beautiful." "shoahldn'tgye bye sayeeng zeat aboaht yoah meelady?" He said massaging away the tension of where her fingers were on his face, only having felt the pressure of them. He looked almost annoyed as his sharp eyes slanted and eyebrows knitted together to accompany the half-curling lip that revealed his characteristically sharp canines. As she inquired with dullen eyes Melor readjusted the cuffs of his coat, before a smirk reappeared on his face as gazed condescendingly at her. He held up his dance card for the girl to see, her named etched into the surface with cursive letters. "maybye yoah shoahld chyeck yoahr ovn dancye card as vyell," he said as if this was all just a game, like a cat to a piece of thread, how long would it take for the thread to split ends and unravel.... If it ever did at all. Melor then outstretched expectedly towards her, as if she could read his mind to dance with himself. |
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@Hana Bakir|11 MARCH 2025 | 438 W/C | OUTFIT | #781111
FOOTNOTES | 1. Only the one's who capture his attention as much as you my dear. 2. Shouldn't he be saying that about you milady? 3. Maybe you should check your own dance card as well.
—cirrus nam
—He was soon borne away by the waves, and lost in darkness and distance—
melor baskakova—