Rocketeers
♕- Midnight of Sept. 26th, 2025 | Viaduct, Hogwarts -♕
Despite the newly-dubbed Gryffindor's frustrating lack of involvement in official sports since his transfer to Hogwarts, his time at his third magical school remained on a high note.
The Toussaint boy wouldn't dare to voice the sentimental words out loud—his inherent hubris would disallow it—he'd managed to miraculously gain two of the best accomplices a few weeks after his sorting. One Odilon Wilde and the Prat Pass, a former Prefect and captain of a few sports. The individual connections between the Viper and fellow Lion had only skyrocketed since the Quidbeat game and small exchanges in class or in passing. It was lost on the boy of whose brilliant idea this was between the trio of third-year teens—his inkling lost potentially due to head injury or rogue bludger, who was really to say?
His job was simple: bring a broom, firewhiskey, and meet at the Viaduct, and that's exactly what he'd do when midnight rolled around.
The backpack situated against his spine jostled with his Silver Arrow and bottles of liquor, and despite breaking multiple school rules and hauling ill-gotten gains from his mother's inventory, each step from Alphonse was surefooted and nonchalant. Sauntering casually down the familiar stone bridge, his brown gaze searched the chilled night for his mates. It appeared the Haitian would be the first to arrive between Odilon and Prat. Oh well.
Leaning against the stone balustrade in silent anticipation, Alphonse unzipped his enchanted backpack and withdrew his broom, one of three bottles, and two shot glasses. With a twist of the cap, Alphonse poured each petite glass full of a small stream of amber liquid. One for himself, one that was emptied into the blackened gorge below in remembrance of the fallen homies along the way.
"Salud."——mentions. @Prat Pass & @Odilon Wilde
——notes. It's a bird, it's a plane! no, it's LADS LADS LADS ON PARADE.
Remedy.
Rocketeers
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@Alphonse Toussaint @Odilon WildeLADS LADS LADS ON TOUR
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────Prat had spent the past few weeks lingering in that in-between space—no longer actively a Part of Dueling roster he once was, yet not quite solidified on the Quidditch roster either. It irritated the boy more than he'd care to admit. Patience, as his grandfather would often say, was a virtue of men who knew their worth; but for Prat, it always sounded like consolation and excuses for delays. Yet, the boy had managed to insert himself somewhere, assert his footing by securing another captaincy spot and keeping himself tethered to something that resembled progress.
His acquaintances of late, that he was supposed to meet here, had been unexpected these days to say the least. Alphonse Toussaint, a name and manner carrying the unmistakable familiarity that matched Professor Toussaint. Prat had drawn the potential connection the first week they'd met, though, he'd never felt bothered enough to confirm it. What did it matter?
The other boy, Odilon, they'd met both within Hogwarts' walls and outside; gatherings that smelled of polished marble, imported alcohol and faint whiff on influence and power. Invisible threads controlling which would seem all encompassing.
Friends, if Prat were to use the word lightly.
The night was sharp when the raven haired boy arrived at the Viaduct, boots echoing against the stone floors. He immediately spotted Alphonse, leaning against the balustrade, pouring some amber firewhiskey into the gorge below like a half-solemn ritual. "Pouring tributes before the party's arrived? Quite rude." Prat's voice carried the faintest edge of amusement as he approached, "Bad form, One ought to wait for company prior to such ceremony."
Setting his broom down, Prat gently dropped his backpack to the ground. With a measured motion, he withdrew a bottle from within, amber whiskey in an old crystal decanter, one that was a rare find in any student dorms. "From someone rich's collection," he remarked. "Tonight warranted something more refined than cheap joys."─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Prat Pass - Slytherin | |
Sta: 7 | Eva: 10 | Str: 6 | Wis: 7 | Arc: 7 | Acc: 13 |
Sta: 9 | Eva: 15 | Str: 0 | Wis: 7 | Arc: 5 | Acc: 15 |
Rocketeers
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.It had been difficult to stay under the radar sneaking out of the common room with a sizeable broom in-hand, and even harder to avoid detection by any teachers lurking the corridors late at night. Nonetheless, it seemed like all three of the boys had gotten away with it. Odi spotted the other boys chatting further down the way. Stealing a quick look around to check that no one was around, he slipped his broom under his legs and kicked off towards them.
There was a brusque FWOOSH sound as a humanoid shape zipped past the other two boys, then a doppler effect of cackling as Odi Wilde U-turned on his broom, slowing his pace as he reached their parralel. His right hand was firmly holding his broom whilst the other carried an additional bottle of firewhisky. He held it up and shook it gently at them. “Scored it off some chump on his way home from the Hogs Head.”
“Well now.” He continued, flicking the stopper on his bottle into the ravine below. “Seems like we all made it. What we toasting to?” He cast a glance between his co-conspiritors.
Alphonse had become quite the partner in crime as of late, with their mutual penchant for trouble having made the Toussaint boy quite fun to hang around with- particularly on misadventures such as this.
Prat, on the other hand, had surprised Odi in taking part in this little excursion. Their few interactions had heretofore been carefully contrived and mostly under parental supervision. Not exactly a recipe for connection. Perhaps in another life they might have made fast friends before this long.
Odi hovered on his broom, holding out his bottle of firewisky for the other two to toast. He’d hop off and lounge around with the other two once the lull started to kick in, but for now it was nice to just have a minute to goof off. His fingers were itching to pour the sharp liquid down his throat and get this party started.
Mentioning: @Prat Pass @Alphonse Toussaint
Rocketeers
♕- Midnight of Sept. 26th, 2025 | Viaduct, Hogwarts -♕
Regardless where the unforetold journey may lead the Toussaint progeny, rituals would forever be second-natured veneration—an integral part of Haitian culture that refused to be forgotten.
Completing the routine practice by knocking back his own glass of bitter firewhiskey with a swift motion, Alphonse turned the other shotglass upside down in commemoration. A solemn sigh subconsciously escaped the Haitian's lips while his dark gaze stared down into the blackened gorge below as his brows furrowed in thought, reminiscing upon his uncle's and Professor Kāne's advice. Despite both of the professors' bestowed sapience, there resided a deep-seated grief that ached in Alphonse's chest that hadn't yet healed, yet the newly-dubbed Gryffindor schooled his countenance into a mask of poise.
After almost a year since the tragedy, it was growing easier to feign collectedness behind the Caribbean-bred boy's confident and boisterous facade—though perhaps it was the vices, new school, and new friends that contributed to this.
Speaking of friends, here came Prat—
Tearing his oak-brown gaze away from the upside-down shotglass and dark gorge below, Alphonse's eyes flickered to the Dueling Captain's direction and his lips twitched into a faint apologetic half-smile. Although subtle, there was a hint of humor in Prat's condescending words. A chuckle would be the Toussaint boy's initial response—like most things, he wouldn't take the remark seriously. Despite the coolness that emanated from the Haitian teen who continued to lean casually against the chilled stone balustrade, a small part of the boy felt his ritual required an explanation—but then Alphonse reasserted the self-confidence that had been cultivated over his lifetime and decided otherwise.
"Well fuck, mano. I didn't think you'd actually show up," the Gryffindor jested in turn as Prat neared and revealed an aged whiskey swishing in an elegant crystal decanter, "Hey hey hey, don't discount the cheap shit, alright. That's the stuff that gets you real fucked up in a pinch. Ol' reliable or whatever Americans say."
Curiously espying Prat's choice of firewhiskey brand, Alphonse couldn't resist drawing similarities between it and the enigmatic Slytherin before him. The amber liquid in hand was refined and perfectly curated in both taste and visage, but this assessment left the Gryffindor wondering if its substance fell far from its 'perfected' representation.
Before questions regarding Odilon's whereabouts could depart from his lips, as if on cue, the white-haired boy whipped past on a Cleansweep and proudly presented his own liquid contraband. "Finally.." Alphonse muttered under his breath. Greeting his fellow Gryffindor with a friendly nod into Odi's hovering direction, the Toussaint boy's smirk deepened now that the group was all here, bottles in hand and at the ready. He'd push off the balustrade and grip the neck of his bottle, clinking it with both Prat's and Odilon's.
"Here's to us," Alphonse began with a thoughtful and confident tone, "and the nights we won’t remember, with friends we’ll never forget."——mentions. @Prat Pass & @Odilon Wilde
——notes. ----
Remedy.