The Garden of Eden Spring Ball 2025

banner by Prat Pass | interacting as Archer Duncan

When one sees fire, one panics. Logical enough explanation to Archer. Except during that moment, Archer was running on none of the logic he had been so precisely apt at.

It had been the worst in the wintertime. Stoves. Bonfires. Roasting marshmallows. Daily, commonplace items that he shied away from as a million possibilities snagged at his mind. They didn’t need to be grand displays, didn't even need to have been anything done in malice, not even a quick incendio cast in a duel much less an entire curse of fiendfyre. After all, his mother had only just been baking cake, the most innocent of tricks up her sleeve, when the accident happened, and whether it was water or oxygen deprivation or extinguo nothing stopped the fire from spreading. And nothing stopped the fire from claiming her life.

Because fire consumes everything, eats all in its path, makes anything insignificant. Fire demanded the world. Whatever quip he was about to return surrounding gossip at a ball once dull, whatever shared interest, or lack thereof he thought they could have bonded over, whatever expectations they were both seeking to wreck — all gone, rendered completely dismissible in the face of the insatiable beast in Archer’s way. Whoever had any mind to spare for matters as trivial as that while a steadily rising flame was catching behind them ought to have been a pyromaniac at the least. Archer, on the other hand, was still fairly certain he was a pyrophobe.

And so that word repeated over and over in his head, and whether it was a sick mantra or a warning alarm he could not have told. It was as if his reflexes had now newly honed themselves specifically for signs of the peril, whether it was the sizzling of burning, the haze of smoke, and the choking sensation of it polluting his lungs. His sight did not have to be the first on the line of reception for his body to have jolted. Like electricity sent through his veins, every muscle buzzed, anything left of that indifferent laze suddenly gone as priorities took over his apathy. His body screamed at him as his chest tightened, breathing coming hard and heavy despite still not having barely moved an inch. A panic attack was descending over him and if he did not make his exit soon, it would only be exacerbated.

“Je suis désolé,” he muttered the apology quickly in a language he didn’t even know Violeta would have understood, defaulting back to French as his mind focused only on that night back at Lyon. Lyon, with that little town engraved in picturesque postcard beauty, its corner cafe and its bookshop and its vintage store. And then Archer’s brain forced onto him an image of it all on fire, just like how their holiday villa had been. Burned to the ground, artefacts, literature, people, and all. And so, backing away, his steps never fully breaking into a sprint, he carried himself as fast as he could away.

Run for the woods, Archer; that’s where you last saw maman, remember? You had been too slow last time but maybe… just maybe… things could turn out differently. To the woods, to the castle, to the lake, he shouldn’t have cared. Anywhere away from the courtyard, anywhere away from your memories. But Hogwarts’ been here for centuries, and memories would outpace you until the day you relinquish your body to the Reaper. And join your mother. So how’s your stamina? How far can you run until you’re forced to stop, and until you’re forced to look back?

Look at Adam, finally being cast out from the Garden of Eden for all his sins.

April 11th 2025
Speech: Bold #257379
Thoughts: Bold Italics
@Cursa McCoire - @Colin McCoire - @AngelFyre McCubbin

Another deep groan laden with thinly veiled rage rumbled out of Casey's throat as another pang of pain shot up along his shoulder and arm. He strained to force the pain out, shoving his forehead into Emily's side as she led the two of them away from the worst of the fires.

He could hear Colin and Cursa incant more water spells. That AngelFyre chick was a smart cookie, a clever trick with the replenishing potion as water sprayed in triple volume. With hers and the McCoires' talents, the Garden ought to be turned into a safety swimming pool in no time.

At a tiny patch of unsinged grass, Casey finally dropped to the ground on his knees. He felt his shoulder go numb, pain and relief clashing like a badly mixed drink. He laid his back against the side of a grassy slope, his hand twitching as it resisted touching the burnt shoulder.

"Dammit--!" he seethed. He swallowed as he sweated profusely from the adrenaline.

Still... Maybe the scar will look cool when it finally gets seen to... Casey quirked a tired and weak, yet amused smile at the thought. It would be something entertaining to tell his folks when he would get home for the summer. Whether or not he could stomach weeks of his mother and father fussing over him like omnipresent guardians was another thing though. It took weeks before they felt Casey was ready to be on his own again after the Hogsmeade bombing. He could only imagine the repercussions after getting nearly burnt alive at Hogwarts.

On second thoughts... The smaller the scar the better, if any scars at all.

Casey reached up to poke Emily's arm. "Go help your friends... I'll be alright here... They need you and your wonder rain to finish this".

_{Word Count: 300}

Action: Still Alive and Kickin'... On the Grass

Stats: Stamina: 8 | Strength: 7 | Evasion: 7 | Wisdom: 6 | Arc Power: 6 | Accuracy: 7
Abilities: Fearless | Poison Resistance

April 11th 2025
Speech: #cfa120
Thoughts: Italics
@Colin McCoire - @AngelFyre McCubbin - @Simon Kincaid

With Casey latched in her grip on one side, Emily casted more spells with her other hand, a mix of strong wind and water charms to blow away and drown the flames in front of her as she led Casey away from the worst of the disaster zone. She saw Colin and Cursa rallying together with AngelFyre, a waterfall of... Um... Water-- Washing over the Garden as if a tsunami had grown and leapt out of the Great Lake.

Emily blinked, awestruck at their efforts. Dang it. She envied how cool and powerful they all were. She shook her head. Casey looked like he was ready to bite into Emily's dress with the way he gnashed his teeth in pain. Eventually he slid to the ground, caught by the underside of his arms by Emily as she hurried to soften his fall.

"If only I had something I could give you to quell the pain," Emily said regrettably. With two of the greatest healers Emily has ever known busy with the fires, Casey could only last so long without medical attention. "A good dollop of burn healing paste is what you need..."

Emily looked behind herself and back to Casey, who was imploring her to go.

"I can't leave you like this," she said, conflicted. "If you're here alone and the fires come this way, I might not be able to--"

"Just go," Casey said. "You've already rained on this parade... A little more won't hurt to put out the last of the flames".

Casey's self-approving, lop-sided smirk made Emily huff out a laugh. Stubborn to the end like the wise-cracking mule he was. Emily brushed a strand of hair out hair out of his face and stood up.

"If things get bad and we can't make it to you, crawl away like you've never crawled before".

Emily moved to the centre of the venue, armed with wand in hand.

Another roll of the clouds ought to be enough.

"Metelojinx!"

_{Word Count: 330}

Action: Water... Earth... Fire... And more water!!

Stats: Stamina: 7|Evasion: 7|Strength: 6|Wisdom: 8|Arcane Power: 7|Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast |Cat's Grace

11/04/2025

"english" "french" "parselmouth" "italian" thoughts

outfit + hair

╭──────────────────────── ◜◌◝ ────────────────────────╮
╰───► ❛ Art Deco (Allure in Effect). ❜۵
₊⁺⋆ Date: February 12th, 2025| Number of words: 499| Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺
⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝⏝

Wales? She'd heard of that place before. As she listened intently to her companion's words, she tried to remember where she'd met someone from there. She smiled softly, waiting for him to finish. Although she was surprised by how quickly he finished. Stelle had never been able to be that specific about things. She frowned with a soft smile, thinking for a few seconds what to say. She wasn't going to be specific, she couldn't, but at least she'd try not to stray too far from the topic. After a few minutes, she took a long, deep breath before setting the cake aside.

—Well, my family is my mother and I. We live in a small town near Edinburgh, but it's far from the city. Although, for my... let's say, out of tradition, I'll start living with my grandparents. Fun fact: my grandfather is from Wales too. So starting ther summer, I'll be living with them in Edinburgh, only in a super house in the city—. She took a deep breath. Thinking about what would be the next thing to share. Everyone had secrets, even her. Whether they were more or less important to her depended on the person. And while Stelle loved her lineage, not everyone was a fan of creatures like her. She still didn't understand why.

—I had several cats, but they all ran away. But now I have Noble, a snowy owl. I don't really use her much, though. She only carry my letters with a friend, or something like that. We've known each other through our grandmothers—. she added after a few seconds of gathering her thoughts. Being with Rafael was refreshing. She didn't have to measure herself, fake smiles, or follow unwritten rules. They seemed to understand each other, even if only a little.

She continued carefully undoing her hairstyle, carefully removing a few hairpins from her head before asking,—Would you mind holding them?—. It was a simple, sincere question. When she finished, she was able to let her long hair fall free. Massaging the roots a little, he then arranged the rest of her hair over her shoulder before flipping it back. —Fun fact? I've never cut my hair, not even the ends—. she commented with a soft smile.

That was real, she'd never cut her hair. For her mother and grandmother, hair was something special. Not only because it was ridiculously long and blonde, but also because it was a symbol of power. After her first purchase for her first year, he discovered that wands could use Veela hair as their core. It sounded strange, but he internally took that as her mother's explanation for refusing him when he wanted to get a bang.—And... well, you know the rest. I'm a Hufflepuff, a first-year, I like to paint, and I can dance. Is there anything you want to know about me?—. Her last words were more than a question; they were a small invitation. Stelle wanted him to meet her.

ABILITIES: Part-Veela
VISUAL: Here!
INTERACTIONS + MENTIONS:@Rafal Devereux
OPEN TO INTERACTIONS!

♕- Evening of April 11th 2025 | Garden of Eden, Hogwarts -♕

Despite the searing heat that penetrated his squinted gaze, hurried steps tore towards the heart of the fire—frantically chasing the shrills that desperately cried out for him.

Had Alphonse's mouth not already been coated with soot, he'd shout back to his cousin and mother, but each attempt would barely carry through the crackling and popping sounds of the burning gardens surrounding him. Only agonizing coughs and desperate gasps for clean, untainted air would manage to leave his dried and cracked lips. The Toussaint boy wouldn't allow this to dissuade him from entering deeper, for this wasn't the first time the Wampus dove head-first recklessly into the pits of hell for his mother.

Ever since that last horrid October, in the explosion in Hogsmeade that had claimed his friends' lives as well as nearly that of his mother's, Alphonse was growing all too familiar with the slow and consuming sensation of burning alive. And the pungent smells that followed of flesh being licked by fire. Just when the Toussaint progeny had thought he had finally rid and unclogged the scent of charred humans from his nostrils from those months ago, here it was again—greeting him like an old friend.

Inside the ravenous blaze and billowing plumes of smokestacks, there was no visibility; only hazy shadows that Alphonse couldn't distinguish between smoke or distant silhouette. It was not until a disjointed scream erupted like a wounded creature that Alphonse had finally determined a path to follow through the fire's glare and falling debris.

By the gods' graces, there they were—his mother and cousin locked in a quick embrace.

"Mom!" Alphonse called out as his long legs rushed to his pregnant mother's side, his oak-brown gaze sweeping over their garbs to ensure it had not been her or Isadora who screamed out in agony. Neither had appeared touched by the consuming fires around them, so his focus shifted to the two companions that remained next. A girl and a boy—the girl appeared familiar from class in Ilvermorny, but knew her not by name.

She, too, looked relatively unharmed—the boy, however, did.

With the flames quickly devouring everything in sight, the Toussaint boy assumed it unwise to linger much longer than necessary, but the boy's burns would likely impede his ability to flee. Isadora hovered around him with a fear-stricken expression, and it seemed as though his cousin was aware there wasn't much she could do for the injured boy without support.

Between Isadora's frightfulness and werewolf condition's heightened hearing, the roaring flames likely did no service. Quickly unbuttoning his champagne-hued vest and tossing it her way, the Toussaint boy said: "For your ears."

Now turning his attention to the charred boy, he inquired a simple "Can you walk?" but rather than waiting for an answer, Alphonse examined the horrid injuries and took initiative—there was no time to wait. Carefully slinging him across his shoulderblade while avoiding grazing any scorched flesh, Alphonse lightly gripped his calf and wrist for support before nodding to his mom.

——mentions. @Isadora Toussaint-Vilaça, @Matthew Campbell, @Devon Wallen
——trunk. charmer
——notes. Permission to godmod Matt was granted. Attire:

Reducio

date. april 11th, 2025 ─ location. garden of eden ─ hex. #5d6c47
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

——mentions. @Devon Wallen, @Isadora Toussaint-Vilaça, Alphonse, @Matthew Campbell
——notes. following this post
——inventory. burn cream, bruise cream, wand