Granian Derby
This event offersPRIZE TICKETS.
For more information on the Prize Ticket system, see TICKET EXCHANGE.
Mass Event RP Thread
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It's only this moment, don't care what comes after...
A light rain fell over the Quidditch stadium. They'd had such wonderful weather just about all summer camp long, with only a few scattered showers, so it was bound to hit eventually. It was just a shame it had to happen on the day of the Derby. Fortunately, the committee had prepared for just such a possibility. The Arts & Booth Expo of ereyesterday had been a raging success, but it had taken just about the entire day after to completely rid the Stadium proper of all signs of booths and foot-traffic debris. Diligence and teamwork had paid off, however, the Stadium having been transformed.
To the elation of the Summer Camp Committee, P.E.G.A.S.U.S. (Preternatural Equestrian Games and Sports Uniformity Society) had agreed to hold one of their local International Qualifying Granian races at the London Stadium for the benefit of the students and the convenience that the centralized location happened to provide. Students would have a rare opportunity to spectate as eight 3-year-old Granians--flown in from different stables around the United Kingdoms--make their debut appearance into the formal racing sphere.
At the entrance, those arriving would be immediately greeted by an auburn-haired seventh-year student wearing a cape georgette periwinkle cocktail dress with white lace gloves, nude-coloured mary-jane heels. Evelynn had taken the task to dress to Derby fashion quite seriously. The piece de resistance, however, was the matching periwinkle wide-brimmed hat featuring an elaborate display of Granian wing, jobberknoll, and peacock feathers, arranged together with angel trumpet flowers, snowdrops, mallowsweet, and an actual mourning dove nestled in a granian hair nest. The dove cooed regularly as Evelynn greeted her fellow students, her polite smile contrasted somewhat by appraising slate gray eyes. Still, she stood ready and eager to welcome students and staff alike to the event, compliments given towards those who had dressed for the occasion (complete with tickets being handed out for those wearing hats) and encouraging them to place their bet on who they thought would be the winning horse at the little booth she had set up for the bidding.Once within, students would notice the vaulted coloured canvas hung by invisible anchors above the entirety of the stadium, almost like a giant circus tent, protecting the pitch from the pitter-patter of the August showers. Around the perimeter, the race track had been set up, closed in with low white fences. At regular intervals, distance marker posts stood notably etched with runes that glowed faintly with arcane energy. Within, tents had been set up with various foods and comfortable seating, highly reminiscent of cocktail lawn parties. Macarons, tea, biscuits, sandwich squares, juices, and all variety of other finger appropriate British-centric foods could be found to satiate even the most stubborn of appetites. There were even some sections set up for little games to pass the time as the horses warmed up and the preamble of announcements passed: horseshoes, cornhole, a giant jenga, and other such lawn games. For those who enjoyed making memories, a photobooth could be found with a variety of props, images taken and developed in real time. True to the Derby traditions, the event had been turned into an event.Evelynn is manning the betting station and handing out tickets for anyone wearing a hat. You are welcome to interact with Evelynn directly, or to lightly god-mod her indicating that she helped your character as needed through the process of submitting their bet for a winning horse, or handed your character tickets for wearing a hat.
A platform in the middle stood high above the crowd, where an announcer with a bird's eye view stood ready to commentate. "Welcome, welcome, to this year's Granian Derby!" they began, their voice amplified to echo into every nook and cranny of the Stadium, repeating a series of platitudes and welcoming greetings as spectators arrived. "I am your hostess, Jembza Rowan." None present would be able to miss the lilting melody of their words. "A special thank you to both the Preternatural Equestrian Games and Sports Uniformity Society and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the collaboration and organization of this affair, as well as of course to the English National Quidditch team for generously allowing us use of their Stadium for the day!"
"How many of you can say that you have seen a Granian horse up close? Particularly one with the pedigree and prestigious training to be as swift as they come?" An open palm moved to point out a gait slowly opening. "But before we introduce our new faces, I have one particularly important announcement of note! If you look carefully, you will notice runes of protection around the track. This should go without saying, but the racetrack is strictly off limits to anyone other than the horses, jockeys, and their associated team members. Likewise, the track is protected from all forms of projectiles and spells and will turn away anything and anyone without runic authorization to cross the threshold."
"Now, with that settled..." She cleared her throat and smiled broadly before setting her voice with a deep and energetic resonance. "Making his debut for Mistral & Mirror Racing, Snorting Hat is the handsome grullo gelding with a twitchy snort that’s already turning heads. Wearing ivory white tack with gold trim, he’s bold and unpredictable, with a crooked blaze and a lot to prove out of the gate."
True to his name, the first horse entered into the spotlight with a snort and toss of its head, barely contained energy palpable.
"From Silver Strider Sanctuary, Bluebottle Betsy is a graceful dapple grey mare debuting today in royal blue tack with silver accents. Calm at the start but built for speed, she carries herself with elegance and steady reliability."
They were larger than a typical horse, their magical nature made quickly apparent by the large pair of feathered wings that sprouted from each of their withers.
"Representing Runestone Riding Academy, this cream champagne stallion arrives cloaked in an understated and elegant mahogany brown tack, complete with a lightning bolt saddle cloth. With sharp eyes and a powerful build, Avada Run Fasta looks ready to make magic on his first trip down the stretch."
Those with an equestrian background would likely notice how the saddles had to be manufactured specifically with this in mind, tailored to be narrower and sit slightly farther back than a non-magical racing counterpart.
"Excalibur Equestrian Centre sends out Phoenix Flare, a glowing bright rose bay mare with flame-red and gold tack and a signature blaze. She’s known for her late bursts in training—watch for a hot finish in her first official run."
In shades varying from purest of white to dark greys, it would be quite obvious as to what creature the mythological pegasus is based upon.
"Debuting for Skadi’s Skye Ranch, Loki's Legacy is a cunning blue roan gelding with hunter green tack etched with runes. A crescent mark over his eye gives him a trickster’s look—expect surprises from this one."
Tall and slender of limb, the young racehorses that trotted from the entrance and to the track moved with a sense of easy grace.
"From Stonehedge Stables, Firebolt Fury is a powerful dark dapple gray stallion in gallant gold tack. A live wire at the gate, he’s set to test his spark in this first race."
It would become very apparent very quickly how difficult it could be to track such beasts when the time came for them to make their way around the track. Wings would obscure vision, and their lack of significant colour variation could confuse onlookers. Every horse, however, wore a particular colour scheme and the logo of their association emblazoned upon their saddle blankets.
"Nimble Nimbus, racing for Pegasus Pines, is a light-stepping white-gray mare in sky blue tack with pearl trim. Her dreamy gait and quiet confidence have impressed in workouts—now she takes her first leap into competition."
The particularly keen eyed amongst the spectators might notice something else as well. Each horse also wore a piece of tack that had been etched with the very same rune transcribed into each of the vertical beams stationed regularly around the track.
"Making her debut for Arion Academy, Vitamixin' It Up is a bold gray mare sporting slate gray and black tack. With a star on her brow and spring in her step, she brings speed, style, and a dose of chaos to the field."
"And that is the lot of them! They have already warmed up behind the scenes, but will now be given an additional period of time to finalize their preparations before we call them to the gait." With the last of the Granians released with their riders out into the track, the announcer was able to take something of a breath. For the next while, spectators would be able to watch the Granians as they trotted and cantered around portions of the track. Every now and then, a rider would pause to adjust a piece of gear or converse with the team mate who had accompanied to lead them through the tunnel to emerge into the stadium. One thing is quite certain, while all fully grown, the horses were all on the younger side. Fresh, green, and spirited.
After a drink of water and a hushed conversation with what must have been her assistant given her holding of a clipboard with several dozen pieces of paper, the announcer was back to the center of her platform to address the crowd (whether or not they happened to be listening), wand tip once again falling to rest upon her throat. "While the horses warm up, let us have a few words from our sponsors. After all, such a day is only possible because of those who made it so!" Arms raised and grinning widely, the woman walked in a small circle, addressing all those in attendance.
The white pristinely tailored gown that she wore moved elegantly with her strides, the quality of its detailed floral embroidery obvious even at a distance. Gracefully gesturing to the ensemble, the woman beamed, "First, I would like to highlight that I have the honour of wearing a Park design, courtesy of the exceptional talent of high fashion designers Jung-hwa and Ji-ho Park. Here you can see the traditional Korean influence of their immaculate embroidery work. Its timeless silk embroidered pieces sought after by prestige and wealth that brings light upon the traditional Korean prints." @Nabi Park
ReducioFrom the top of the clipboard pile, a piece of paper found its way into the announcer's hand. "A special thank you as well to the Dralt Trading Company, transporter of magical goods and components. As it happens, for those of you soon to be graduating or if you know those recently entering into the workforce, they are hiring Sailors and Couriers!" @Pericles Dralt
Design by Park
Just like that, the piece of paper was returned, only to be replaced by another. "Leone's Warding Wonders! Proprietors of a small shop in the nearby Diagon Alley, the Leone family sells lucky charms, talismans, amulets and enchanted jewelry. Be sure to duck in to visit before you catch the Hogwarts Express back to school." @Odette Leone
The sponsored advertisement was returned to the assistant swiftly. The assistant tried to replace it with yet another as clearly there was a large stack to get through, but the hostess waved her hand. "OH I think they've had quite enough for now. We wouldn't want to overwhelm them with too much all at once, now would we! Fret not, there will be time to hear more about all the lovely Derby contributors. For now, however, get a bite to eat, mingle with your friends, get your bid in on your favourite Granian racer, and find a most excellent seat. The race will begin soon!"
I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me.Next Moderation: After July 20th
Granian Racehorses* these names courtesy of h.io genchat
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Snorting Hat*
Bluebottle* Betsy
Avada Run Fasta*
Phoenix Flare
Loki's Legacy
Firebolt Fury
Nimble Nimbus
Vitamixin' It Up
Mistral & Mirror Racing
Silver Strider Sanctuary
Runestone Riding Academy
Excalibur Equestrian Centre
Skadi's Skye Ranch
Stonehedge Stables
Pegasus Pines
Arion Academy
OOC Information
- Sign up for the Granian Derby HERE.
(Signing up for this event is NOT required to join the thread for roleplay. The Sign-Up is only required if you would like to earnPRIZE TICKETS).
- The deadline to sign up to Place a Bet on the winning Granian horse is: July 20th
- The deadline to sign-up to Show Off Your Hat is: Aug 24th
- Students CANNOT access the race track or interfere with the Granian racehorses while they are racing. The space has been shielded. Any spells/objects/living things directed towards the track will bounce back from an invisible barriers. This is to protect the riders and horses.
- Moderation will occur on a weekly basis to address: (1) progression of the Granian racehorses around the track, (2) resolve any actions taken by characters in the thread requiring rolls, and (3) highlight canonical player-driven sponsors and ads.
ReducioDoes your character (or their family) own a business? Are they looking to hire for specific Adult System related positions? Would you benefit from IC advertising in some way?
If yes, I want to hear from you! Throughout the course of the race, the announcer will be providing messages from various sponsors (you could be one!), while the horses will pass by various graphics, logos and ads as they make their way around the track.
My goal is twofold: (1) To increase awareness of the Adult System and get the brain wheels turning for potential future character paths, and (2) to promote IC connections for your next caterer/tailor/etc. to increase the depth of the h.io world and its PC/iNPC characters.
If this is something that interests you, send me an owl or DM me on discord with the following information:Company Name:
Brief description:
Owner name:
What you'd like to advertise: (is it sale of products? Services? Are you looking to expand? Trying to hire? What roles?)
Anything else you'd like to add:
The mentionable name of the character associated with above strictly for ooc tagging purpose:- Evelynn is manning the betting station and handing out tickets for anyone wearing a hat. You are welcome to interact with Evelynn directly, or to lightly god-mod her indicating that she helped your character as needed through the process of submitting their bet for a winning horse, or handed your character tickets for wearing a hat.
(Don't forget to link to your posts in the Sign-Up thread!)- There will be an opportunity to lightly interact with the Granian horses, take photos, get an autograph, etc. at the winner's circle when the race has concluded.
For any questions about this event, please contact Evelynn Decipio!
Granian Derby
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August 21, 2025 -The Granian Derby
Stephen had mixed feelings about this derby. The last time he had had anything to do with flying horses, he and Miles had been victims of some terrorist plot. Now, he knew it was not the fault of the winged horses, but his fuzzy memories of that horrific day always landed first on the Abraxan running down the street of Hogsmeade, on fire. He still remembers no sound or smells or even the pain really. What he does remember is trying to put the flames on the horse out and trying to make it rain. Then all else was pretty much a blank slate after that. What he knows of that evening he knows because EmmaLee and Miles filled him in on everything.
However, that was months ago, and he and Miles and EmmaLee had had to make their own private arrangements to get to London. Everyone had to, and honestly, it was the sensible and safe thing to do. Less concentration of students in one place at the same time to try to blow to smithereens again. Then he cynically thought they could just blow them all up while at the Quidditch stadium. Same difference really.
What did pique his interest was the theme of the summer camp. It was going to be a fair, and this camp offered one of his very favorite things in the world, which was the chance to be able to dress up in a costume. He received a welcome packet, and in it he learned that there would be a Granian Derby and he could, if he so wished, make a hat for the event. No one had to ask him twice on that. He had been to the Kentucky Derby with his father as a small child and remembered some things, but not a lot. What he mostly remembered was waiting around a long, long time before the race even happened, and then once it did, it was over too quickly.
He decided his outfit would not end at a hat. EmmaLee and Miles would not be the least bit surprised about this. He and his grandfather worked on tailoring his Edwardian dove grey and white pinstripe suit, complete with lavender tie and pocket square. His grandfather had him over a few times for fittings, and each time, Stephen got to look through bolts and bolts of material. He found one he loved in his favorite color -- purple -- but it had the faintest suggestions of other colors that reminded him of a space nebula. That, he decided, would be the hat band. Then he looked through his grandfather's sewing machine's embroidery designs and found a Pegasus that he figured would be a good enough replacement for the Granian he was trying to evoke in his design. He designed the floral embellishments to enhance and not hinder the main focus point, which was, of course, the Granian. He even found an embroidery design for some silks and a jockey's cap, which he included in the floral trail as well. His favorite little find was a silver, horseshoe charm which he stitched on in an upward position.
Up meant the horseshoe could catch luck. A downward turn of the horseshoe meant luck could be poured out, or bestowed upon someone. His linear brain would not let him think of any way but to have it open to catching luck. If that didn't happen first, then how could luck be poured out? To Stephen, that was just a no brainer.
The hat itself was an interesting mottled grey, a couple of shades darker than his suit, but it worked. It was not silk like other top hats he had worn, but it was a rich, crushed velvet. It was a little small for his head, and his grandfather laughed and spoke about how he was growing so quickly. He also told him the hat was a vintage classic from his mother country, and honestly, men tended to be smaller 60 years ago in his country. His grandfather's eyes slicked with moisture, and Stephen just hugged him. As Stephen worried that he would not find anything that would go as well with the suit material, his grandfather soon relieved him of his worries. "I will block it. It will fit you by the time you leave for London, солнце." (little sun).
And it did.
As Stephen put it on and checked to make sure everything looked just right, he had to smile. He didn't think he'd embarrass EmmaLee too badly in this get up. He looked around for Miles who was being very cagey. Stephen couldn't determine if it was because he wanted to surprise him with his own hat or if it had anything to do with other awkwardness going on between the two lately. In any case, Miles was nowhere to be found and he had an appointment to meet EmmaLee at the Betting Windows, so he needed to go.
There was a large crowd already at the track, and Stephen had to give credit to the organizers. It looked splendid. The day was sunny and warm, but not hot. It was London. It rarely seemed to get hot here, at least by his California boy standards. In any case, it was nice to not be freezing here for a month as he had done last summer. That experience had been fun, but he felt like he had been living in cold for a year by the time spring came to Ilvermorny.
He scanned the crowd for EmmaLee and did not yet see her, so he decided he'd look at the horses first before looking at any odds. He knew nothing about racing, horses, or betting, but he had decided he would just bet on the horse he like the looks of best. This was just for fun anyway, so it was not like it was huge investment of money or emotions. He was leaning over the railing, watching the horses pass by while trying to tune out the promotional advertisements for the sponsors as best he could. He realized that was maybe ingratitude on his part, but this was likely a one time event for him. Listening to a barrage of soft-sell sales pitches had his mind immediately begin to check out on what was going on around him. If this had been America, this iconic stadium would have had it's name name changed to the British equivalent of 3M or Staples.
In any case, he was not likely to seek employment as a sailor or work for one of the Granian breeders, so he would just tune the ads out and the horses in as they paraded by. They all looked to be in great shape and sleek and spirited, so he was not finding anything that stuck out to his untrained, uninitiated eyes as a reason to bet, or not bet, on any horse in particular. He was going to go with what he liked, and what he liked was a grey mare by the name of Vitamixin' It Up. Kudos to whomever thought up that name -- brilliant. She was beautiful and since none of the horses were wearing purple tack, he decided to go with her. There were other grey beauties that would be racing, but Vitamixin'It Up stole his heart the moment she turned her head and he saw the star over her left brow.
"Bingo!" he said to no one, as he happily enthused to himself. If that was not a sign, then he didn't know what one was.
He looked at the time and then over to the long line that had formed at the Betting Windows. He scanned around one last time for Miles or for EmmaLee and decided to get in line and wait for them there. Efficiency seemed to be the name of the game as he got in line. He was surprised at how quickly it went. He got up to the window before either Miles or EmmaLee found him, so he went ahead and placed his bet. Mimicking what other racers had said before, he told the lovely upperclasswoman behind the window, "Vitamixin' It Up for the win, please." He ponied up his money and slid it across the counter to her who, in turn, gave him his ticket.
Stephen quickly stepped off to the side so others could place their bets, but his eyes were drawn to his own ticket. He was not sure what a winning ticket would actually garner him, if this were to be one, but the thrill and excitement was beginning to finally penetrate his senses. When he looked up, he began to notice more and more interesting hats populating the whole venue, which made everything more fun in his estimation.
He also heard someone talking about the Derby's signature drink. Pretty certain it was not going to be a mint julep, Stephen listened with more than mild curiosity as the witch said it was something called the 'Whisperwing Elixir', and it contained lavender and lemon balm as two of the main ingredients. That concoction he was definitely going to have to try.
But first he needed to connect with his girl and his best buddy. Where were they anyway?
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Don’t tell me the SKY’s the limit when there are footprints on the moon.
Granian Derby
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Graci had never been to a Derby before. She never really felt the want to do so, but she couldn't resist. (A) She had nothing better to do and (B) She figured a new experience couldn't hurt. But the main thing was that she couldn't resist an excited crowd. While it made her a bit anxious, the atmosphere itself usually made up for it.
Her summer camp had been fun and eventful so far, she couldn't believe it had only been a little more than a week. Whether because it had gone so quickly or felt like it was a lifetime, she didn't know. Both applied. The logic didn't work, but it was valid to Graci's abnormal thought process.
Buzzing with excitement she entered the Derby. Or however you were supposed to phrase walking into an event. She didn't process much else save for her mood. Joy. That was about it. No complex anything.
Placing her bet wasn't all that complicated either. The choosing process was a breeze. Phoenix Flare. Not named after her self proclaimed best friend, but sharing a name nonetheless. Well, first name, at least.
Graci still wasn't sure if she and Phoenix were best friends, the girl seemed a bit too mature and serious to be considered 'besties' with anyone. Not that that was a bad thing, just a fact. Though, then again, Graci hardly knew the girl. Just one thing that made all the difference. Everything else was self deducted which left far too much room for error.
Back to the present, Graci. Contemplate whether you are friends or if it's all your delusional-ness later.
Previous experience with betting of any kind was out of the question, so she just did a random one. Certainly with no connected thoughts at all.
Oh, who am I kidding. Just myself, and that's not even working. I really need to pull it together, Merlin's beard.
Self consciously, she put a hand to her hat. She was not a hat wearer in the least, but she was told that other people were doing it, so why not her? It was an unnecessary top hat, made by one of the older fellows on her street who did it for a living. He was balding with wacky gold-and-black circular glasses and all the eccentricity to match. And it was clearly channelled into his hats. The specific one she currently has on was a 'Book spine' themed one, that's what he had said, at least.
It looked precisely as it sounded, book spines— fake, of course— in a circle around and beautifully written golden calligraphy titles of classics. Little Women, Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, and so forth. It was very her. The her before Hogwarts. Very much the same, but still very, very different, so she wasn't as excited about it as she could've been.
Graci wasn't aware she would be getting tickets for simply wearing a hat— or maybe she was and just mind blanked. This whole thing is so cool. I should thank the planning committee for making such a wonderful camp experience.
Impressionable was a word to describe Graci very well, so easily captivated by everything. the beautiful horses, the bustling crowds, and especially the dazzling hats. A few people even dressed to match the occasion, unlike herself with a rather boring, unmemorable outfit.
Even the horses were beautiful, especially her mare of choice. It might have been a bad choice, as the announcer had said it was her first official race, but hey, it could've been any of the others too, if she had listened better.
Graci tried to get her head back into the present, focusing on the sponsors and basking in the happy atmosphere. Occasionally she forgot to just live instead of staying in her head, and other times it was the opposite. Never thinking through anything or thinking through it far too much.
Her fingers were fiddling with her bracelets and earrings repeatedly, focusing on that instead of all the people around her. Sometimes it got a bit too loud, the colours, sounds, smells, everything. It was probably an issue, but how did you even fix that? I suppose I'm fixing it right now. Exposure helps, apparently.
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OOC notes:---Coded by Eugenia Karageorgiadi ---WC: 711
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Granian Derby
Harvey walked with a little extra pep in his step as he made his way into the London Stadium for the Granian Derby. Not even the spot of rain could sour his mood today as he had been looking forward to this event since it was announced. Everything about this spectacle spoke to Harvey. The flare of fashion, the extravagance of it all, not to mention the flaunt of wealth that would perfume the air around them. No one needed to say it aloud or boast about their position. Your clothes and demeanor would do all the speaking for you.
While animal related events weren't usually his cup of tea, Harvey was always rather impressed by the Granian races. Now that was something to invest your galleons into. It wasn't only the pomp and prestige that surrounded the sport that drew him in, but also that time and care it took to achieve success. The ambitious little goblin liked quick fixes just like any other, but the things that took commitment were the most rewarding. The carefully selected matings, the training and development and the status required to make your way in such a selective world. Anyone could show up to spectate and that surely was good fun. The high of watching your animal win, now that was worth chasing.
"Good day." Harvey tipped his hat to the pleasant witch greeting the crowd at the entrance. "I absolutely love your attire. I think I'll put it all on Bluebottle Betsy, please." The boy offered her another smile as she handed him a ticket for his hat. He took a minute to make sure he was all tidied up before moving into the main event. His suit was white with emerald and black trim. Harvey still wanted to use this event to flaunt his school pride and especially so house Slytherin. The pork pie hat atop his head was emerald green, decorated with white and black roses all studded with little pops of silver. The finest goblin tailors had handcrafted it for him and it was time to show off.Harvey listened closely to the announcement and gave a small round of applause when they concluded. The boy shifted his way towards the concession and helped himself to a sandwich, a couple biscuits and a glass of juice. He had not intention to eating or drinking them of course, this suit was not to be worn while eating, but it was all part of the show. Harvey moved to some seating and began to watch the crowd. Perhaps someone there would be worth striking up a conversation with.Outfit and Hat:
Reducio
@Livia Machavariani
Last edited by Harvey Barrows on 17 Jul 2025, 18:16, edited 1 time in total.
Second Generation Character of Howard White
Granian Derby
ReducioBasil's hands trembled slightly and he held them loosely over his ears to block out a bit of sound as he made his way through the crowds lined up outside the Quidditch field turned Derby Racecourse, limiting some of the overwhelming sounds, smells, and crowd. Usually when he was at an event like this his grandmother's towering stature and harsh glare could pave a path, but even at the age of fourteen he wasn't an inch over five feet, and Basil found himself swept up in the press of bodies. It was all worth it to see more winged horses, these Granians being the basis for Pegasus legends after all, so he pressed on to the betting counter.Date: August 21st. Open to Interactions.
He'd spent all morning reading about each of the horses, admiring their stats, their lineage, and their training styles. He could see the draw of betting on many of the young starters, but something about the quiet grace of Bluebottle Betsy reminded him of his own quiet nature, and he could only hope that she would have a chance at winning. Finally making it to the booth with an older student in fabulous derby clothes, Basil simply passed over a note with the name Bluebottle Betsy on it, instead of trying to shout his bet over the crowd.
He accepted his extra tickets as well for his hat, nodding in thanks and feeling the swooping feathers bob slightly. He had chosen to wear a hat for the occasion to try to support the horses and the sport, and had also worn the outfit he'd shyly bought with his father before coming to summer camp. His hat was not as tall as many of the others around him, but it had sweeping golden and white feathers flowing from the front of the brim to the back, as though a waterfall of wings sat atop his head. At the front, emerging from the feathers, was a fine model of an Abraxian. It wasn't quite the appropriate winged horse, but he'd already had the animated figurine, and attaching it to the hat hadn't been difficult. And so the little model sat, galloping and flying in place, lightly fanning his face and ruffling the feathers of the hat.
His outfit was much more subdued, but it was fairly exciting for him. The simple black button-up with brown ribbon and brown vest was similar to his usual fair, if a bit silkier than the soft cottons he went for. Instead of his soft slacks however he had chosen to go with a flowing linen brown skirt that reached his ankles, and black shoes with finely shined silver buckles to finish it off. It was practically bland compared to the garish delights surrounding him, but it still gave off an air of sophistication and expense only tailored and custom made clothes could do.
Finally into the stands, the crowds thinned somewhat and he quickly pushed himself to stand pressed as close to the rails as he could. He couldn't force himself to sit, too busy standing on his toes and leaning as far as he could to catch a glimpse of the horses as they finished their warmups. He wouldn't miss a minute of their race!
⭑☾𖣂☽⭑[/quote
Interacting with: Open to Interactions Wordcount: 500+ Color=#3C692A
Basil Blackwood Ilvermorny ꧁Courage is not always seen꧂
Stats: Stamina: 7 | Evasion: 8 | Strength: 1 | Wisdom: 10 | ArcPower: 11 | Accuracy: 10
Abilities: N/A
iNPC
Tesla Stone⭑☾☀☽⭑ ⭑☾𖣂☽⭑Basil Blackwood
Granian Derby
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speech • #427c9a
thoughts • italics
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london quidditch stadium • location
granian derby • threadA derby? Betting on horses? Definitely not Ophelia's cup of tea. But when she'd seen in her welcome packet that showing off a derby hat would win her prize tickets? That was when she'd been truly convinced that she'd needed to go to this activity. Plus, she would get to see the horses, which would be an added bonus, of course.
Ophelia's fashion sense and perfectionism had began tingling, and before she knew it she'd designed ten different sketches and ideas, even with her terrible drawing skills, and had picked her favourite one to begin creating. Yes, creating. By hand. Was it a little extra? A little stupid too, perhaps, since this hat would definitely never be used again? Yes, yes maybe it was. But the girl had sewing skills, and she'd figured that she might as well put them to use when things like this came around.
Her fingers had ached from all the times she'd nearly, and actually, stabbed herself with her needle. Her eyes had gone bleary from fixing all the crossed stitches and uneven lines. Her patience had worn dangerously thin. But, in the end, Ophelia was quite proud of her handiwork.
Her derby hat. Mind you, she'd never actually been to one of these things. The hat had been made purely out of imagination, a bit of inspiration from one of her favourite childhood aesthetics, the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland, of course.
A rich maroon coloured base fabric with a subtle pattern of embroidered whorls of the same colour, which added an elegant touch. A dusty purple coloured feather sticking out from where it was secured to the hat by a pin fashioned to look like a golden pocket watch. Next to the pin were two more identical pocket watch pins, while a third that looked quite different. The third pin was shaped like a golden horse, in honor of the derby that she was attending.
And which such an amazing, if she did say so herself, derby hat, Ophelia figured that an amazing derby outfit would also be required. But the idea of creating one, especially from scratch, had not appealed to her aching fingers. That was why she'd ended up slightly altering one of her mother's old dresses. It was simple cotton, the same dusty purple as the feather on her hat, perhaps slightly lighter. With a scrunch waist and puffed sleeves, Ophelia found it quite adorable, and comfortable, to wear. Perhaps not her most grand look, but the derby hat did make up for it.
When Ophelia entered the stadium and found no one that she knew, her focus dropped down to where the horses were getting ready. With no prior, but plenty of history spent researching horses when she'd been a little girl, Ophelia made her way to the booth to place her bet. "I've chosen to place my bet on Pheonix Flare." She smiled at the witch who took down her name and the bet that she'd made. Perhaps the others here had more experience and had more reason to back up their choice than having just picked a random, beautiful creature.
When all that was over, Ophelia scouted the stadium for a seat. It seemed that she'd assessed the people present correctly-- none of them were people she knew. And that meant the Ravenclaw had two options. Sit tight by herself and wait to see if anyone she knew showed up, or, the dreaded choice, take a risk and find someone new to talk to.
She sighed, knowing that speaking to someone new was a terrible idea. She'd just stumble over her words and make a bad impression of herself. It was safer to stay by herself, though she wouldn't be rude to any soul that made the venture to speak to her. Ophelia sat by herself with plenty of room on either side for anyone interested in speaking to someone new to come up to her.
It was time to watch the race unfold.
interactions • open!
mentions • @
stats • sta 9 | eva 9 | str 7 | wis 9 | arc 6 | acc 9
xxx • outfit
perfectionist, paragon of health, keen eye • abilities☽ •----------------------------------------• ☾
☽ Ophelia Lynn Northwell | i have a whole universe in my mind | Aurélie Nathalie Duval ☾
Granian Derby
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GRANIAN DERBY
Rafael was unable to wipe off the bitter scowl on his face as he donned on the top hat that hid his soft tuft of romulus blonde beneath its cruelly stiff brim. While Gelvira's statement would soon be proven true -- the hat was indeed appropriate -- it did little to lessen his disdain for what he considered pageantry disguised as tradition. He despised such...flamboyancy. It was beneath the dignity of a Kraus. Rafael would never be caught with anything so outlandish, or so he thought.
However, he was a good son.
Trudging along, the young Kraus adopted a hollow pollyannaism, forcing himself to belief the hat served some strategic advantage. The weather, perhaps. It was a pall of sullen grey with intermittent rain. Whilst the hat sheltering his finely combed hair, clouds loured thick with the promise of more. His hatred for the sodden air was getting to him. Or, it was a subtle signal towards the right people.. “I understand your customs, even if I find them trivial.” Either way, he told himself it was better to wear it with some purpose than allow himself to appear petulant.
At least, his outfit did not betray him. Along with the ridiculous top hat, Rafael's mother had insisted he wear a frock coat of rich obsidian wool, with a subtle embroidered filigree running along the hem and cuffs. His waistcoat was midnight blue silk, highlighted by a high-collared ivory shirt and a dark cravat secured with a jet clasp bearing the Kraus family crest. His ridiculous black velvet top hat featured a cream feather embellishment, a striped band, and an ornate metal accent piece. These prominent cluster of three large feathers were worn off-white from its several years of gathering dust, presumably, and were positioned slightly off center. The asymmetrical, airy decoration was one factor for Rafael's deep distaste towards the black hat.
Beneath the feathers, and encircling the hat's crown, was a band of striped satin that alternated stripes of ecru and charcoal. This was accompanied by a think, silver chain that encircled the hat, securing the band and feathers with a dark, metallic ornament Rafael had failed to meticulously inspect in attempts to escape the impending rain. At the entrance, he was greeted by the auburn-haired girl manning the betting booth-- Evelynn. The dove in her hat blinked at him. What a sight. Rafael, after a beat of hesitation, offered a tight nod in greeting, silently accepting the tickets for his derby hat before trailing in with the surge of spectators.
He passed beneath the canvas canopy shielding the pitch, the glow of enchantments casting a faint shimmer over the grounds. Inside, the air was lively with chatter and motion; students dressed for spectacle, sweets arranged on delicate silver trays. An unfortunate reminder of Pureblood gatherings grazed his mind. Rafael straightened his cuffs and ignored all the lawn games, making his way towards the low white fences marking the race track. Jembaza Rowan had begun introducing the Granians as they commenced their warm-ups. They were larger than Rafael had expected. Imposing and powerful.
Snorting Hat. Too skittish, clearly out of the question. Phoenix Flare was utterly performative. Bluebottle Betsy seemed promising. That is, until Avada Run Fasta cantered into view. Cream-champagne coat. A powerful, balanced frame. Sharp, intelligent eyes. The mahogany brown tack was understated and clean. Runestone Riding Academy? Rafael lingered just long enough to watch the stallion execute a turn before the decision was made.
He returned to the betting station, where Evelynn greeted him with a smile too bright for the weather. The dove in her hat gave an approving coo. "The stallion from Runestone," he told her. "I would like to place a bet on Avada Run Fasta. Please."
Back at the edge of track, the Granians continued to canter, their wings catching glints of light as they moved. Rafael visited the tables of food as a detour towards the spectator stands. Rafael considered the neat rows of sandwich triangles and pastel pastries with mild detachment. It was all very dainty and pleasant, curated towards a British-centralised food haven. His eyes skimmed past the tiered macarons and miniature trifles and landed upon a silver platter bearing apple turnovers, still faintly warm. Not quite Apfelstrudel, of course -- no raisins soaked in rum, no layered sheets of paper-thin dough folded. Rafael pinched a slice between two fingers. Taking a bite, the pastry gave way with a crisp crackle, revealing warm, cinnamon-laced apple within. It was sweet and decadent. But.
No raisins swollen with rum. No whisper of lemon zest or the careful resistance of real strudel dough pulled thinly. Still, not bad. Not strudel, but that was alright, he supposed. Still enjoying the delectable, Rafael found himself a spot amongst those at the stands and proceeded to wait.
STATISTICALLY RELEVANT (+2ACC)|
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Wisdom: 9 ✦ ArcPower: 5 ✦ Accuracy: 8(10)Action: Spectating. Owl for interactions.
Granian Derby
date: 21st august 2025
event: granian derby, summer camp 2025
location: london, england, united kingdom
Horses had never been creatures Livia had been allowed to spend much time around, but from the occasional book she had read when she was younger, she had garnered a special appreciation for the majestic, strong beings. Given that she had never properly seen one in person, and that the dress code for a derby was deliciously dear to her mother's preferred aesthetics, she opted to attend the Granian Derby, which had the added benefit of letting her spectate horses that also had wings.
How that worked, she wasn't quite sure, but curiosity and determination had overtaken her mind. She spent a great deal of the afternoon upturning clothes in her trunk, searching for the best outfit to wear. She ultimately settled on a pale pink dress with black accents and shimmering jewels, something her father had given her when she had turned eleven. She paired it with a pair of white wrist-length gloves, a thin pearl necklace and two very low black heels, to provide a bit of elegant glamour without adding too much to her already-above-average height. The hat, though, took a bit of bargaining and ingenuity. Livia had managed to find an off-white hat in her trunk, and with some well-worded wishes to some strangers, she ended up acquiring enough craft supplies to spend her downtime making a hat adorned with pink ribbons and feathers. The strange pleasure she found in the hat's creation led her to let her hair out of its usual chignon, instead opting for a braided half-up, half-down look with pink flowers in it.
When she arrived, she smiled politely and nodded a wordless greeting to the witch who was taking bets. She had not originally intended to place a bet, but after receiving tickets for her hat, the words came out too quickly. 'I... would like to place a bet on...' She had to pause to ensure she had read the horses' names properly. 'Er... Vitamixin' It Up? Thank you.'
After that, Livia kept to the edges of the crowd, giving herself time to simply absorb the new environment before acting further. Her outlandish dress and hat, which she was finding she rather liked despite the fact that her mother would have dismissed them as simply gaudy, assisted her in integrating with the crowd. Many were students such as herself, or so she assumed, given their juvenile features and lack of height compared to the adults she knew. Some appeared more refined with their clothes better-tailored and their posture straight, while others seemed sloppier, more prone to falling apart.
Livia avoided the second type of individual as she skirted the groups. The announcements went over her head as she tried to figure out where to go, ultimately locking eyes with the refreshments table and heading that way. She paused, however, her trajectory altered to lead her nearer a boy far shorter than her, with a hat to make up for the height difference. There was something in the way he held himself that drew her to observe him, a refinement not unlike that which she often attempted—and often failed—to exude from herself.
This time, she had very much intended to talk, but as she neared the boy, the question was what she would say, not whether she would speak. She folded her hands in front of her and immediately felt her shoulders pull backwards to her usual straight-backed posture, although even that callback to her upbringing would make maintaining eye contact a bit more difficult unless the boy were to look up at her. Livia pushed the thought to the back of her mind and ultimately opted to start with a compliment. 'Your hat is absolutely lovely—how did you find something like that?' She offered a small smile and extended her right hand. 'I'm Livia, by the way, an upcoming first year. And you are?'
event: granian derby, summer camp 2025
location: london, england, united kingdom
roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
Horses had never been creatures Livia had been allowed to spend much time around, but from the occasional book she had read when she was younger, she had garnered a special appreciation for the majestic, strong beings. Given that she had never properly seen one in person, and that the dress code for a derby was deliciously dear to her mother's preferred aesthetics, she opted to attend the Granian Derby, which had the added benefit of letting her spectate horses that also had wings.
How that worked, she wasn't quite sure, but curiosity and determination had overtaken her mind. She spent a great deal of the afternoon upturning clothes in her trunk, searching for the best outfit to wear. She ultimately settled on a pale pink dress with black accents and shimmering jewels, something her father had given her when she had turned eleven. She paired it with a pair of white wrist-length gloves, a thin pearl necklace and two very low black heels, to provide a bit of elegant glamour without adding too much to her already-above-average height. The hat, though, took a bit of bargaining and ingenuity. Livia had managed to find an off-white hat in her trunk, and with some well-worded wishes to some strangers, she ended up acquiring enough craft supplies to spend her downtime making a hat adorned with pink ribbons and feathers. The strange pleasure she found in the hat's creation led her to let her hair out of its usual chignon, instead opting for a braided half-up, half-down look with pink flowers in it.
When she arrived, she smiled politely and nodded a wordless greeting to the witch who was taking bets. She had not originally intended to place a bet, but after receiving tickets for her hat, the words came out too quickly. 'I... would like to place a bet on...' She had to pause to ensure she had read the horses' names properly. 'Er... Vitamixin' It Up? Thank you.'
After that, Livia kept to the edges of the crowd, giving herself time to simply absorb the new environment before acting further. Her outlandish dress and hat, which she was finding she rather liked despite the fact that her mother would have dismissed them as simply gaudy, assisted her in integrating with the crowd. Many were students such as herself, or so she assumed, given their juvenile features and lack of height compared to the adults she knew. Some appeared more refined with their clothes better-tailored and their posture straight, while others seemed sloppier, more prone to falling apart.
Livia avoided the second type of individual as she skirted the groups. The announcements went over her head as she tried to figure out where to go, ultimately locking eyes with the refreshments table and heading that way. She paused, however, her trajectory altered to lead her nearer a boy far shorter than her, with a hat to make up for the height difference. There was something in the way he held himself that drew her to observe him, a refinement not unlike that which she often attempted—and often failed—to exude from herself.
This time, she had very much intended to talk, but as she neared the boy, the question was what she would say, not whether she would speak. She folded her hands in front of her and immediately felt her shoulders pull backwards to her usual straight-backed posture, although even that callback to her upbringing would make maintaining eye contact a bit more difficult unless the boy were to look up at her. Livia pushed the thought to the back of her mind and ultimately opted to start with a compliment. 'Your hat is absolutely lovely—how did you find something like that?' She offered a small smile and extended her right hand. 'I'm Livia, by the way, an upcoming first year. And you are?'
@harvey barrows
| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |
Granian Derby
Zoe stepped through the enchanted gates of London Stadium, the buzz of the crowd and the scent of rain-dampened grass filling the air. It was her first ever magical derby, and not just any derby! The P.E.G.A.S.U.S. International Qualifier! She clutched her complimentary brochure like it was a sacred text, eyes wide as the stadium unfolded before her in shimmering, spellbound splendor.Date: August 21st. Open to Interactions.
Above her, the massive canvas stretched across the sky like a floating circus tent, glowing faintly where droplets of rain pattered harmlessly against the magical fabric. The atmosphere was charged, both with the hum of arcane energy and the nervous excitement of the crowd. Zoe grinned.
She’d spent the entire morning planning her outfit, and the result was… memmorable. On her head sat a towering, teal-blue fascinator, festooned with faux phoenix feathers, tiny mechanical wings that buzzed on occasion, and (because she couldn’t help herself) a small, enchanted snitch that hovered above the brim, zipping in small, frantic circles. It was decidedly too much, and she loved it.
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In the stadium, one of the most intriguing things was being asked whether she was placing any bets. Zoe blinked, momentarily flustered. “Oh, right. Um.” Her eyes darted to the list of racers on the board behind Evelynn, each name etched in shifting silver script.
She didn’t know a single thing about Granian racing, nor how any of these horses performed. Betting felt… big. Adult. Dangerous.
Still, the name caught her eye.
Loki’s Legacy. It sounded fast. Wild. Slightly untrustworthy. Maybe the fact it sounded just reckless enough jumped out at her.
Zoey gave a small, conspiratorial grin. “Er… sure. Put me down for Loki’s Legacy.”
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Inside, the stadium was alive with colour and motion. Students were sipping tea beneath floating parasols, others playing magical lawn games between bites of lemon squares and finger sandwiches. A group of enchanted macarons waltzed past on a silver tray. In the center of it all, the Granians warmed up on the track, their silver coats gleaming under the light of magical runes and their wings twitching with restrained power.
Zoe leaned against the white fencing, heart pounding as one of the racers took their places, preparing to kick off.
“This is so much better than Quidditch,” she whispered to herself, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of the track. The event hadn’t even started yet, but already she knew, this was going to be one of those days she’d remember forever.
And if her hat flapped in the breeze and poked someone in the face now and then? Well, that was just part of the charm.
Last edited by Zoe Nightshade on 20 Jul 2025, 13:05, edited 1 time in total.
Granian Derby
Horse racing was hardly an event Malcolm had all that much interest in participating in, especially after the fiasco that had been involved once it came time to find him the closest thing his family could scrounge up in terms of 'high-society' attire. The only reason he'd begrudgingly agreed to show up was because his granda had elected to spend a bit of money on a sponsorship deal, in the hopes of drumming up extra help in the arboretum in the coming year, and he should probably be there in case anybody had questions about what could be expected from the job. So he'd managed to pull on the aubergine breeches bedecked with horseshoes and ivy, the yellowing stockings, the slightly curled leather shoes, the plum-hued jacket with its acorn buttons and winged horse embroidery, and finally the derby hat - a constellation of stars stitched into fabric that had faded to a dusty mauve shade over time, a band of olive oak leaves patterned atop a mustard ribbon, which also held a collection of yellow feathers, silk flowers, pressed leaves, and a somewhat damaged pin of a bowtruckle riding a Granian horse.Date: 21st of August. Open to interactions.
To say Malcolm was embarrassed to be wearing the ancient excuse for proper derby attire was quite possibly the epitome of understatements. Before he'd even left home, the drab violet color contrasting with his dirty blond hair had inspired one of his half-blood cousins to compare him to someone named Willy Wonka. He wasn't entirely sure who that was, but considering how hard they'd been trying not to laugh as they said it told him everything he needed to know. While a few charms from his mam had managed to re-attach the lengthy band of ribbon that had managed to detach itself from its proper place amongst the rest of the trim so it wouldn't be whacking him in the face, as well as remove the unfortunate Drooble's wrapper from where it had previously been cemented in place and finally put the jacket's struggling refitting charm out of its misery so it stopped making Malcolm look like he was being eaten by a water balloon fashioned out of purple velvet, there was only so much one could do to salvage the situation.
The soon-to-be first year pushed himself to the edge of his cot, and transferred himself to his wheelchair with a grunt, before wheeling his way out of the tent, following the throng of fellow students - most of them much more sharply dressed - towards the awaiting track. At least there's food, he mused to himself, as he eyed the event beyond the betting station.
Eventually, the line eased up, and Malcolm edged his wheelchair out from under the canvas roof’s drip line, droplets still clinging to the spokes. He squinted up at Evelynn’s periwinkle hat. It was over‐the‐top, in the best way. The mourning dove perched on her brim cooed, fluffing its feathers in the drizzle, and Malcolm found himself chuckling at the sight.
“Lovely hat,” Malcolm said, an attempt at a genuine compliment instead of the apology that felt more natural for him, given his own museum piece.
"Thank you," Malcolm murmured as he accepted the ticket that was slightly damp around the edges. He leaned forward, squinting at the list of contenders beside the booth. "My bet's on Phoenix Flare. Fittin' name. She's got fire burnin' in her veins, that one. Let's hope that fire turns ta tickets, aye?"
Planting Ideas, Pruning Doubts, Gathering Wonder
Sta - 9 | Eva - 1 | Str - 1 | Wis - 9 | Arc - 6 | Acc - 9