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Dress for the Dead. Errand

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mentioning: a lot lol | date: 31-10-2025 | fit: x
Avis had been counting down to Halloween for weeks now. Not only was she going to her very first Halloween party later (despite it being Gabriele's ew), the Ravenclaw was dressing up as one of her newest Muggle passions and she was ecstatic about it! Her past costumes had always been alright. One year she'd dressed up as the drummer from the Weird Sisters. The hair gel had taken days to get out, though. Probably not a repeat costume. Another memorable year, she'd dressed up as a vampire and ended up being allergic to whatever was in the fake blood Mam had used as makeup. Again, definitely not a repeat, especially after the rash. The girl shuddered at the thought as she made her way down the staircase, squeaking slightly in her costume as she went.

Anyways, this year, Avis had decided firmly upon Batman, a hero in the Muggle comics she'd been so avidly reading since her first introduction to them last year. She'd been so sure about the costume, in fact, that she'd forced Will to take her to the Muggle dress up store months in advance to purchase the outfit which was a full muscle suit plus mask, most definitely meant for a teenage boy. It was slightly too big and definitely wasn't going to win any sort of costume contest (especially one being judged by Fish Head @Fire Davies) but Merlin, the Ravenclaw had never felt cooler in her entire 12 years. The aura was truly frightening.

As she strode into the Small Hall, chest puffed out in proper superhero fashion and cape billowing out behind her, Avis caught several familiar faces in the candlelight, namely her best friend @Maisie Gemmell to which she immediately began to make her way over. The Ravenclaw studied her friend's costume from across the room and grinned. She'd only been working on it for weeks ahead of time and regardless of the fact that Avis had no idea who she was (Holly Dolittle something?) the girl had to admit, she looked brilliant and devilishly classy, not mention she'd made the costume by hand!

Speaking of the devil, Avis slipped past a boy dressed in an incredible rendition of the infamous red character @
Camille De Varenne and gave him an impressed smile, forgetting that she was supposed to be a tough anti-hero.

Charging ahead and recovering from her break in character with a quick throat clear, Avis was vaguely noting that there was a strange amount of bananas in the room...only for her thoughts to be interrupted by a walking candle adorned in shiny metal which was standing with what looked like one of those Muggle cops the girl had seen in her comics. It was only after a moment that Avis finally recognized who was underneath the wax deformations.

"Aleks? Aleks Drašković" Avis questioned carefully, squinting against the bat mask covering half her face. "What in Merlin's good name are you supposed to be?" she asked, completely baffled.

Her best guess? Perhaps a disfigured knight. Or maybe Frankenstein's monster? Although she didn't remember him being so shiny...

Waiting for an answer, Avis turned to acknowledge the other boy who had to be @Aiden Sinclair, Aleks' frequently discussed roommate. She gave him a nod, still trying to maintain her tough Batman persona and flexed the muscle suit slightly which only gave the effect of her moving her arms awkwardly.

"I'm Avis," she mentioned to the boy finally. "Were you the one that let him step out of the dorm room like this?" she joked, waving her arm vaguely in their mutual friend's general direction. It seemed Maisie would have to wait until she figured out what exactly Aleks was supposed to be.
Last edited by Avis Greymond on 30 Oct 2025, 22:27, edited 1 time in total.
sta 8 | eva 8 | str 3 | wis 7 | arc 6 | acc 10
inpc: bastien archambeau
Dress for the Dead. Errand
C date: 31/10/2025
location: Small Hall
outfit: Link
abilities: lovely creature
dialogue: #0a2a28
mentioned: @Harvey Barrows, @Avis Greymond
@Aleks Drašković
Open for more interactions
 C
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CV
The boy didn’t doubt that Harvey could conduct himself in public, with enough motivation. What he doubted, however, was Harvey’s willingness to resist the temptation of humiliating him. His hazel eyes narrowed at the carved pumpkin across from him, the shadows in its hollows meeting his own with uncanny familiarity. Not giving in until he got spoken confirmation that whatever information his fathers had let slip in the presence of goblin kind, no one at this event would hear the same story. Knowing Alain De Varenne, however, the likelihood of the elder letting any secrets of a son of his become common knowledge was next to zero. Still, he could never be too careful, with an enemy around every corner (real or imagined), praying for his downfall.

After a brief staring match, Harvey promised to keep his maw shut, flashing a snaggle-tooth smile that only, instead of disarming him, made the French boy’s skepticism deepen. Whether he’d stick to his word, only time would tell. Students in costume were entering the room as they spoke, and not wanting to be seen arguing with a pumpkin longer than necessary, and risk looking like a madman, Camille took his word for it. Straightening with a sigh, Camille’s gaze drifted across the room and landed on Rosaline, not far from where they stood, dressed in some kind of Victorian silhouette. It was the direction of her walk that caught his attention—away from them. Staring after her disappearing form, he froze, realizing she must have seen them—recognized him —and been too turned off by the display to approach. He wasn’t suffering without her company, exactly, though the fact that she’d seen him in not his best light— the talking pumpkin, not his outfit— filled him with a quiet regret. At least Rosaline was too kind and gentle to ever mock him openly, but he doubted others would show such grace. That one girl he was familiar with had seen him, was one too many.

While his souring attention was elsewhere, the half-goblin pumpkin slipped his hand to his elbow. Camille’s head snapped back, gaze dropping first to Harvey’s hand, then to his face, his own mirroring one of disbelief to have his immediate personal space invaded. The only apparent goal behind the sudden proximity was to guide him along to mingle with the rest. While they waited for the winners to be announced, a title he had no hopes of claiming, mingling seemed the only appropriate pastime.

“Fine.” Camille said with an eyeroll, subtly retreating his elbow, but letting himself be guided further out on the floor, nevertheless, disappearing into the crowd of costumes. Grimly, he added, “I need a drink.” There appeared to be none to be had.

Someone wearing a full on muscle suit with a strange looking mask walked past him, flashed him a smile that did not seem to be one of mockery, but impressed. It was impossible to discern the individual beneath the costume, certainly not anyone he knew personally— or so he hoped— but the attention, however fleeting, pleased him. Following her path, she came to a stop beside a pair of boys. One of them wore some kind of uniform, clearly a muggle reference of sorts. Lost on him, Camille glanced at the other boy that the superhero was addressing personally; he on the other hand, was wrapped in a silvery, shining piece of foil from top to bottom. Piecing two and two together, it must be representing armor of some kind, though it was not a commercial outfit by any means. Camille traced the lines of the armor to the boy’s face and almost visibly recoiled. His mouth twitched in disgust. The boy’s face seemed deformed, grotesque; from their position, he couldn’t distinguish candlewax from skin.

Leaning toward Harvey, he added in a low voice, “That must be part of the costume, non?” Camille shook his head and straightened up, annoyed by himself as he wondered why he even asked Harvey, likely as ignorant as everyone else.

Speculating on the character, Camille tried to map out the possibilities. Someone wildly unappealing that exclusively wore armor. Only one singular person came to his mind’s eye. It was a visage he had glimpsed frequently at the professors’ table during feasts and other ceremonious occasions. Could it be the incompetent man himself, the headmaster? Far-fetched, perhaps, yet the comparison suited his not-so-quiet vendetta against the man who had dismissed him before his arrival. No matter if he was right or wrong, the unflattering, yet accurate, rendition pleased him. With a self-satisfied smirk, Camille took the lead and towards the trio, inserting himself into their conversation, with no regard for what had been said beforehand, acting like he’d belonged there from the start.

“Solomon Lear,” he declared as if it had been obvious, “the incompetent man of a Headmaster. I must say, I prefer this version better," his words carrying both amusement and the faintly cruel satisfaction of someone who recognized an unflattering likeness with uncanny precision. To this boy, however, it would serve as a compliment.

With his chin lightly lifted, he let his eyes linger on the masked boy, who, beneath the gleaming foil, now seemed far less grotesque than the melted wax had promised, waiting with mild impatience for confirmation that his bold, if audacious, guess was indeed correct.
 CV


Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny
Dress for the Dead. Errand
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Date: October 31st, 2025
Speech | Thoughts
Time: Afternoon
Mentioning: @Prat Pass
« Preceeding | Following »
Outfit: Link - I also have permission from Prat Pass to godmod him for this post.

Luca Corranado didn't see himself as a socialite, but he tried to attend every school function to put himself out there. His father had taught him that there was more power in listening than speaking, a lesson that always stuck with him, even as a young wizard. Unlike some of his Slytherin peers who took on a holier-than-thou attitude, he liked staying mysterious while staying in plain sight. But he knew dressing up would bring him more attention than he's used to, especially since there was even a costume contest at this "Dress For The Dead" event to celebrate Halloween at Hogwarts.

Luca had always been determined, even as a young boy, to excel at everything, so he spent quite some time thinking about his costume for this event. He had recently been reading in his free time and learned about something called Timer-Turners. He also clearly remembered several books mentioning the dangers of misusing them and the possible consequences, so he decided to base his costume on that. The young wizard recalled passages from "Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts" by Quentin Trimble and "Magical Theory" by Adalbert Waffling about what could go wrong with Time-Turners if they are misused.

Wizards who tamper with temporal devices often meet themselves — and seldom survive the encounter unchanged, Luca through to himself, a passage from the former book playing in his mind quietly. Rarely do the wizards survive the encounter unchanged, danced around in his mind as inspiration for the customer he decided on - Time-Turned Student. The wizard agreed to show the results of a time-turning gone wrong, where he came back changed, but in a twisted way. Luca had come across an upperclassman in the Slytherin Common Room a few weeks ago, with whom he shared his costume idea.

The boy, whom he came to know as Prat Pass, was willing to help him achieve the look he wanted and appeared to be very exact about how he wanted to do it. Luca had planted the seedling of the idea for the Time-Turned Student, but Prat's expertise and structured approach to helping him with his costume really sent it home. This was Prat and Luca's first interaction, but based on this, Luca thought it might be a good idea to befriend Prat in the long term. Using the Multicorfors spell, Prat expertly and almost automatically made the left side of Luca's uniform look absolutely destroyed.

The ladder part of the costume had been completed by a few girls in Slytherin who had used their time to learn glamour charms, but they were meant to have the opposite effect they usually would. While the girls would have used them to appear more attractive or change minor aspects of their appearance, Prat had enlisted them to make one side of Luca's face look significantly older, with the eye slightly sunken in, skin more wrinkled, and generally decrepit, to complete the Time-Turned Student look.

Luca thanked Prat wholeheartedly before making his way from the dungeons to the Small Hall. He appeared to be a person stuck between two points in time - half the student he was, half the man he might have become. Proudly, he made his way to the event and entered the Small Hall, looking around for anyone that he might recognize, and attempting to determine whether the costume contest had already started or was well underway.

Luca began to scan the crowd as well to see what creative ideas the other students had come up with for their Halloween costumes. He was stepping slightly out of his comfort zone, but he was prepared to do it.
STA: 7 • EVA: 10 • STR: 0 • WIS: 7 • ARC: 2 • ACC: 9
Parselmouth • Evasive Maneuvers
PC: Luca Corranado
OOC Notes: Always open to interactions.
"His story continues" means Luca is no longer there!
iNPC: Silvio Accardi
Dress for the Dead. Errand
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Image posted by the member xx SECOND YEAR | RAVENCLAW xx Image posted by the member
english ; thoughts │ wordcount ; 1659
xxx☽ MENTIONS ; @evpraksiya vinogradova got godmod perms
31 OCTOBER, 2025 ; DATE ☾
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xxx☽ OUTFIT ; x/x with x, laura in carmilla
ahem they're just friends your honour. ; OOC NOTES ☾
xxx
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Sucking in a breath, Elena frowned, her slender fingers battling with the delicate tissue lacing her corset. Stubborn as lace could be, it categorically refused to form the lovely shape of a bow, and kept falling in an irreverent manner, a detail which undoubtedly started to upset her. Cursing under her breath, the blonde tugged exasperatedly, causing the entire figure to crumble in its wake. The two inert pieces of ribbon fell back against her waist, and she threw a sore gaze at herself, glaring daggers in the mirror. This tiny detail had the weight of the entire evening on its frail shoulders, and it kept tenaciously refusing to comply.

A honey tinted strand escaped the loose bun it had been tucked into and gently brushed against her lips, before being quickly blown away by an irritated huff escaping a button nose wrinkled in annoyance. Ignoring the displeased expression drawing itself on her face, Elena looked beyond lovely tonight — a heavy white gown, carrying the weight of rows and rows of delicate lace and shiny pearls woven through the tissue, corset blooming into a heart shape around her chest, drawing attention to the rays of pearls adorning her neck. This particular piece of jewelry was the pinnacle of her costume, as an entire section of the pearls had been drenched in a thick red liquid, some pearling down her collarbones, creating an almost perfect illusion. Tonight, the moonchild was embodying the heroin of a novel she adored, Laura, child of a styrian gentleman. After an evening of heated debate, she had succeeded in convincing her closest friend to complete the duo, slipping into the cold skin of Carmilla.

Middling with the source of her annoyance again, navy eyes drifted slightly to the left, and met sacramento ones staring right through her soul — the sight startling her. "A few more seconds and I will start to fear you might actually bleed me to death," she chuckled after failing to win a staring contest, glancing down to the fangs peaking from her mouth and pivoting to face her. If one were to debate on the three second long gazing war that had just took place, one would very impartially state the odds were rigged, as one of them had a shark-like stare and appeared capable to move on with her day without blinking a single time, and the other had trouble keeping eye contact on a daily basis. Of course, one would also note such trivial matters had little interest, and would rather focus on the crucial stakes at hand — the untied bow she was still struggling to correctly lace.

Evpraksiya — dearest soul ever to have graced an insomniac moonchild’s presence — was, quite unmistakably, pouting. Draped in bolts of impossibly ornate velvet, the Vinogradova heiress was a far cry from her usual 'saint in white'. She stood a portrait a few steps behind Elena — both mourner and mourned, the poem and its elegy; escaped from the ebony frame in some half-remembered manor. If beauty were ever to become a malfeasance, then this apparition was its most decadent transgression. The gown itself was a tapestry of exquisitely embroidered crimson brocade, cascading downward until it surrendered to the diaphanous black lace that stood sentinel at its hem. The black veil rested lightly upon the slytherin’s temporarily argent hair. It was funny, Carmilla was certainly no bride in her story, but maybe in some wistful second life, there was a happily married couple with the last name Karnstein. She — she forced herself to look away from Evpraksiya as the thought seared itself, molten and merciless, into her mind, before it could turn her face redder than Evpraksiya's dress. And now here she was. Possibly one of the most composed people Elena had ever met was. Pouting. Blood-colored lips turned downward, a light frown in between her brows, and an expression an ill-treated puppy would envy.

Her movements slowed down, and navy eyes flickered towards her with a perplexed expression, head tilting on one side as often when she did not comprehend something. "What ?" she questioned, a confused glimmer in her eyes. "Nothing at all dear," the Vinogradova replied airliy, in complete contradiction to how she was seemingly on the verge of crossing her arms and stomping a foot on the ground. "I'm simply hurt, that my dear friend can't bear herself to ask me in tying a bow she seems unable to herself." Elena blinked twice, the new piece of information slowly carving its way into her brain. "You are... brooding," she translated, incredulous, "because I did not required your help ?" Evpraksiya only sulked deeper, sharply pivoting on her feet so that her back faced the bewildered raven. Even though she knew her lovely friend was a slight of a spoiled rotten child, her — incredibly reasonable — tantrums still found a way to surprise her each time. Though she was probably not the best auditory, as she could not help but surrender each time Ev insisted, finding the entire scene as adorable as childish. Which the slytherin had understood, and used to her advantage.

An amused smile curving her lips, she took a few steps forward, halting right before her friend. Gathering the pounds of tissue wrapped around her, she sank to her knees, gently wrapping her hands around the pouting vampire, and leaned her forehead against it — a posture worthy of theaters. "Ô Evpraksiya Morozovna Yuliya Vinogradova," she pleaded, the complicated birth name flowing off her tongue without stuttering, "would your gracious highness bestow upon my humble person the kindness of assisting a poor girl in a moment of great distress ?" With each word that left her lips she could see the struggle in maintaining the pretend frown creasing her nose, and finally she beamed, glancing down at the blonde clung to her side. "Oh why of course! Aren't you a doll for asking so nicely?" Evpraksiya crinkled her eyes in delight, in a few seconds later, expert hands had transformed the recalcitrant ribbon into a luscious bow nested against the small of her back, lightly clapping her hands together after. "Go on now, tell me it's horrendeous and you'll never let me near your ribbon again." she said, amusement shining in mismatched green eyes. Denying her half-meant statement with a wave of the hand, Elena observed the result in the mirror, making a resolution of never battling with a piece of tissue again when she had such a maestro standing by her side.

Suddenly, arms wrapped around her waist and she felt her feet losing contact with the floor as she was lifted in the air. A scream escaped her, awkwardly waving her limbs around to try and gain even a modicus of balance—and failing, as the mischievous devil who had decided to try acrobatics had forgotten she possessed less strength than a drunken fly who had bumped into walls several times already. Elena felt her body drawn to the floor, and the ice-cold hands wrapped around her waist did nothing to help, dragging her down in her fall. The two girls crumbled to the ground in a concert of groans, and the blonde rolled off her friend before collapsing by her side, panting. "Are you insane ?" She yelped, propping herself on her elbow and glaring daggers at the grinning girl next to her. "What were you thinking, that you had suddenly gained the muscles of a troll ?"

A few minutes later, her impatience was starting to reach the stars flickering above. Evpraksiya, who had soit-dit en passant caused her own demise, was categorically refusing to leave before each strand of her hair was perfectly combed into place, the previous fall having disrupted her perfectly put together appearance. Standing still in front of the mirror, she was yet again pouting, brushing a few locks without much conviction. "Ev." No reaction, except the pout widened. "Ev, we're going to be la-" oh and to hell with it. Two steps later, she was hoisting a struggling vampire on her shoulder, turning around and reaching for the door.

"Dear! This is very undignified in front of everyone—oh put me down you ridiculous—!" Ignoring her pestering, Elena walked down the stairs, the Vinogradova still resting on her shoulders like a sack of potatoes. "Clamshell payback," she declared, a proud smile on her face. A few weeks ago, this same girl had coerced her into arriving floating on a ridiculous clamshell, a situation which had inevitably dragged all eyes onto them — not only had it put the raven at the center of attention, which she loathed, but it had also given them a public who had witnessed every time the two girls had almost went overboard, threatening to sink into the depths beneath their feet. She had hated every second of it, and had now found a delightful way to return the favour.

Upon hopping down the last step of the curved stairs, she carefully set the porcelain doll down, watching out for any physical représaille the vampire might distribute. It was now her turn to grin at Evpraksiya’s frowning face, a giggle escaping her lips as she nudged her before taking excited strides towards the awaited location. Dear Meiyu had managed to create a true piece of art, as it felt like stepping directly into another world — carved pumpkins, floating candles and a distinct scent of cold fright lingered in the air. The Great Hall was already flooding with disguised students, each more creative than the last. Turning back to her friend, she extended a hand, not departing from her beam. "Shall we ?"
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cr: evpraksiya's dress description and dialogues were written by her writer and not by me :>
❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧-𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤, 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.❞
☘︎ STAFF ACCOUNT ; ᴍᴀʟᴀɪᴋᴀ ᴏᴍᴇɴᴜᴋᴏ

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Dress for the Dead. Errand
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Linda sighed while thinking about this year. It wasn't going that well. She missed her bestie and it seemed like something happened. So when they agreed on coming to the costumed event, she agreed quickly without thinking. They chose a goddess theme and so her dress was matching Reyna's. The only difference was that instead of blue it was purple. She also had golden decoration on her head. Couple years ago she would not go to such event. She actually almost didn't participate in anything that unfortunate year. Two years passed and she still had the memories and felt missing. But now she learned to live with it. Whoever said that time is healing was wrong. She just learned to live with pain, but didn't heal.

It was now the time to go and she made her way to the small hall. It was easy to notice Reyna, but this time instead of going quickly to her bestie, Linda stood a couple of minutes just watching the girl. There was something wrong. Something that she knew very well. Did her bestie lose someone dear too? She decided to not leave her bestie alone waiting anymore and quickly approached her. Sorry to make you wait for me. She spoke softly and hugged Reyna. Then looked at her with the understanding sadness in her eyes. However, this quickly was replaced with warm silent support. The matching outfit is really looking great on us, we should do it more often.

Now that they were here, what were they going to do? Linda wasn't interested in dancing. She didn't want to think about Quentin now as she was here with Reyna. But she couldn't help remembering about the lose she felt two years ago. Why these thoughts were so persistent today? She sighed, helplessly trying to get out of the sorrowful memories. This was not the time and nor the place to think about it. She quickly smiled, hoping against hope that Reyna didn't notice. What do you want to do?

She finally looked around at the decorations and other students. Not that much but also too much at the same time. Maybe it wasn't that bad, but standing here made her feel more lonely. However, even now she still liked to be with Reyna. Even if now it felt different. It was wrong somehow, not the same it used to be. But it was alright. Linda was going to just stay close with her bestie.

You know, I wanna learn more about healing. I wanna know everything and even more than that. Yes, after that time she already focused more on it and even learned something. Even managed to assist and help. But it felt not enough. It wasn't enough. She looked at Reyna with a silent question, will I lose you too? Linda knew it was childish to hope that knowing more about healing would help her not lose anyone else. But even then, she would keep hoping. The smile returned to her eyes and she thought about what to say.

I think we look really good! You know it was really great idea, thank you for doing it with me. Soft and warm smile made her eyes shine with sincere feeling. They were going to be alright no matter how much time they need for it. Time healed? Time was just teaching to live with it. Living with memories and pain. That older guy seemed to be still living with all that weight, so she didn't have any illusions to be healed. But now they would try to spend time here. Enjoying it as much as they could because each moment was really precious.
Wc-614
@Reyna Evergreen
Will is able to change even the lines on our palms
✮Célestine de la Croix-Valmer✮
- staff account		-ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ-Kaya Rose Bennett-ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ-
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Dress for the Dead. Errand
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mentioning: @Camille De Varenne | date: 31-10-2025 | fit: x
Avis jumped at the accented voice that suddenly appeared behind her as she stood in front of Aleks and Aiden. She turned to see the devil himself from before...well, a rendition of the character...standing behind her and gazing up at Aleks' costume in baffled thought.

"The tin man, maybe," she mumbled to the newcomer, vaguely remembering the classic Muggle tale of the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe—or was it the wizard something?? She shrugged to herself, unbothered by details.

Suddenly, the truth seemed to be revealed as the French boy made a guess. Avis' mouth formed into an 'o' of understanding, only for the expression to change into an intensely arched eyebrow at the boy's next comment. She turned towards him, curious now, and slightly put off by his now obvious posh tone of voice. Another one of those...

She folded her muscled arms, ignoring the fact that they wouldn't completely cross together due to the intense fake biceps and cocked her head.

"A grudge against the headmaster? What'd he do?" she questioned, keeping judgement out of her tone for now. She personally had no real opinion on the leader of the school, other than the fact that he did indeed dress in armor, deeming him at least an interesting person. But Avis hadn't really had any personal interactions with him so any inside information was welcome.

Granted, the Ravenclaw wasn't exactly sold on the reliability of this boy's opinion. He seemed a bit uppity from her point of view, a type she usually tended to avoid, if not beef with, but she'd refrain from judging until proven wrong, despite being in the mood for some banter given her toughness-inducing outfit. Tongue ready, she waited for a response.
sta 8 | eva 8 | str 3 | wis 7 | arc 6 | acc 10
inpc: bastien archambeau
Dress for the Dead. Errand
AS.
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L O C A T I O N
small hall.
D A T E
31 October 2025.
W O R D__C O U N T
637.
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Much to her surprise, Adeline actually adored her costume this year. After much deliberation, she had finally settled on conquering the evening disguised as a dark and mysterious Magpie. Inky, iridescent feathers, sleek ivory and beetle-black laces, wrapped in a trove of trinkets and treasures. It was a fun little ensemble, and one that had been assembled with gentle care.

If it hadn't been for the time and heart that Maisie had dedicated to the pieces, Adeline's nerves very well may have prevented her from attending the event all together. As much as she loved her costume, it felt silly being draped in feathers and facepaint while an alarmingly high percentage of her peers had clearly taken more glamorous approaches to their entries. Adeline recalled the satisfaction and admiration adorning Maisie's face when she had first tried it on for size, performing a half-hearted twirl for her fellow raven in the common room, and felt herself ease up a bit. The memory warmed Adeline from the inside, and provided her the much needed motivation she needed if tonight were to go smoothly.

Halloween was never Adeline's favorite, but the Halloween festivities at Hogwarts were much different from those back in Tenby. The small hall was tastefully adorned with seasonal decor from floor board to chandelier. Expertly carved pumpkins, eerily realistic spider webs, and an enchantingly spooky atmosphere tied the space together and completely transformed the generally mundane small hall. Students filled the room in costumes of all sorts, from elaborate ball gowns to impromptu assembled get ups that had been fashioned only moments ago.

It was hard to ignore the oh so mysterious judges sat viewing the students from their perch. Adeline had heard of both of them before, but having never met the pair made the whole contest aspect of the night a touch more intimidating. What if they don't even know what I am supposed to be? Adeline nervously toyed with one of the loose keys woven into her necklace. Doing her best to avoid their gaze, she averted her own towards the rest of the student base, ocean eyes scanning for a familiar presence to seek shelter in. This task was made significantly harder by the array of unfamiliar characters that surrounded the magpie.

Oddly enough, and of all people, Adeline's mind wandered to Sinclair, and to what she would possibly wear on a night like this. An old-school vampire would be her most natural fit if it were up to Adeline; A long, ebony floor-length coat with blood red accents, and probably, a top hat. Adeline smiled just a bit as she thought of the girl. She would be a wonderful person to run into tonight, if only Adeline were so lucky. After a fateful encounter with the little lion on the outskirts of the fall ball, it was easy enough for Adeline to wander about her here. Maybe if Adeline decided to ditch, she would earn herself another convenient run-in with the fox-like Gryffindor.

She did not manage to spot Sinclair, but luckily another familiar figure captured her attention. Admittedly, when Robin said she was going as a ghost, Adeline had imagined pale facepaint, gauzy layers, and phantom-like embellishments. Despite this, what Robin had chosen was much better. An adorable little sheet-ghost, a costume that actually struck one of the few fond memories of Tenby halloweens spent watching trick or treaters from her window. Adeline should have known Robin enough to know that this was more her style. She looked absolutely adorable.

Politely ducking through her classmates, Adeline made her way through the crowd to her friend, a soft smile pulling atthe corners of her mouth. Once close enough to assume that Robin could properly identify Adeline through the holes in her sheet, she chirpped out a cheeky "Boo!" To her fellow raven.
AS.
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A C T I O N
Entering small hall, spotting Robin
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@Maisie Gemmell, @Sinclair Carver, @Robin Marie.

✵

costume X
Adeline Spinks - Ondine Leroux
Dress for the Dead. Errand
YEAR II. ADAGIO IN MOTION
EVPRAKSIYA M. Y. VINOGRADOVA
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@Elena Clark, @Meiyu Xiang | Music: Camille Saint-Saëns - Danse Macabre | WC: 1194..
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xxxxxxxx𝓣ales like Carmilla weren’t ones Evpraksiya could honestly say she enjoyed. They were, more often than not, the musings of some Muggle romantic who delighted in speculating upon the inexplicable with the untethered wonder of the absurd. Carmilla itself, however, was distinguished from the pack of peers through its varying tones of originality and topic. In another life, she might’ve thought it was the pinnacle of fiction — one where a woman turned etiolated beneath the weight of unmoored temptation whilst the other thrived upon the absolution of her sin beneath sweet Laura’s gaze. It was cheap and rotten romance material that surely had poisoned one too many of the great minds in the Vinogradov family, synapses turning gangrenous and black from the ridiculous deluge of fantasy. Yet, as her gaze fell upon Elena, haloed by the soft light spilling from the Great Hall’s entrance, she found herself reconsidering. It was the tragic symmetry of the story that drew people to it, Evpraksiya supposed — the beloved and the beloved’s undoing — suddenly seemed less like fiction and more like prophecy etched in the future laugh lines of the dreamer staring at her with nothing but the most tantalizing adoration.

Laura. Yes, Elena suited her far too well. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t from a manor in Styria, Austria (though Evpraksiya could draw parallels between the isolation of Laura and Elena in their childhoods); it was the dichotomy between her ignorance and her understanding. She knew what Evpraksiya knew. And she knew Evpraksiya knew. But if she didn’t want to admit it, then who was Evpraksiya to force her? The girl with the Sacramento eyes was nothing if not a deliverer of happiness. Of course — whose happiness was the most paramount question when interacting with her.

The answer right now, Evpraksiya thought as she adjusted the crumpled folds of her crimson gown to admire herself in the reflective surfaces of the Great Hall, was her own. The black lace at the edges danced a timeless dance under the candlelight of the Great Hall’s entrance. The Vinogradov were many things, but frumpish would remain outside of their purview. Saints, the dress had practically spun its own tale of opulence and pride if one knew the right places to look. With one sheer gloved hand, she reached up to smooth the last rebellious strand of silver-white hair back into place — because of course the fall had to have displaced something that had hundreds of gallons’ worth of hairspray charms spent on it — while the other rested demurely at her waist. Her chin tilted upward just so to catch a glimpse of herself in the metal, and for a fleeting moment, she looked every inch the portrait Elena had first mistaken her for: untouchable and only slightly impossible.

“Clamshell payback,” she repeated, letting the syllables roll off her tongue like a fine wine she wavered between wanting to spit or savor. With a slow blink, she lowered her lashes as a small, theatrical sigh escaped the Vinogradova. “That’s pettier than I would’ve expected from you.” She paused, glancing sidelong at her companion in white. Gosh! She’d only wanted to avoid the masses on the ride to the ball. It was her firm opinion that she truly ought not to be punished for helping Elena find a more dignified way to the ball. If that had ended up disastrously (not that she was saying it did), then they’d learned their lesson for the next time. And honestly — in the end, they made it to the ball, didn’t they? “Pettier, more so, for your childish revenge being at the expense of my dignity,” she managed with a haughty sniff.

Elena’s laughter came bright and unrestrained at that, drawing a look of faux injury from Evpraksiya, who pressed a gloved hand to her heart in mock despair. “You’d mock me,” she lamented softly, “after I have so gallantly saved your corset, risked my life to mend your bow, and nearly perished under your—” she glanced down at Elena’s dress with playful disdain “—yards of suffocating skirt.”

“Always the dramatic one, aren’t we? Where was that ‘delicateness’ when you made me play doll for your beauty experiments?” Elena retorted, hand extended again, soft and open. She took it easily, as Elena crossed her arm through Evpraksiya’s own, and they began to make their way deeper into the hall.

The moonchild’s remark only prompted the Slytherin to demure once again, placing her free hand over her scandalized expression. “Dear, I bruise easier than peaches and have far better reasons to be handled gently.”

In another life, it would’ve been impossible to tell if she was joking, but the flicker of delight in her mismatched green eyes was a dead giveaway. Elena always knew where to look.
Evpraksiya’s attention finally drifted toward the Great Hall. Under what she could only assume was Meiyu’s care, it had morphed into an exquisite festive dreamscape — or nightmare, depending on one’s inclination. Although, shooting a look at the cheery carved pumpkins throwing warm shadows across the floor, Evpraksiya could only conclude that the temperament of those who’d call it an ephialte wasn’t of the Gryffindor disposition. As she breathed in, the air was thick with the scent of melting candle wax, cinnamon (she was fostering a particular hate for the spice), and a trace of sharp frost. The ceiling was swallowed by a swirl of midnight clouds whose colors would mesmerize someone unused to the glamour, their depths occasionally lit by ghostly lanterns drifting lazily among the constellations.

She glanced back to Elena, who was adjusting the lines of her own gown, ruffled from carrying her like a barbarian—!

“You wear Laura well,” she said after a pause, voice tinged with measured sweetness. “Too well, perhaps.” Her smile returned like the cat that caught the canary. “If we’re true to the tale, it would mean I’m destined to meet a tragically miserable end before the evening concludes. And I’m afraid I’ve far too much pride to allow for that, so we must write a more appealing alternative by the time this night is over.”

With a raised eyebrow, Elena looked over at Evpraksiya. Her dear friend, well-read and all too knowing the ending of Carmilla’s story, seemed caught between a lovely red flush and an incredulous expression.

“Are you suggesting we stage a wedding? I was wondering when you’d finally propose to me, but I’d wished you would’ve given me more time to prepare a speech, at least.” Elena managed finally, her joke not quite ending up as one when she looked away from her giggling friend, who seemed all too amused at her predicament.

Evpraksiya leaned idly closer, her silver locks brushing the shell of her friend’s ear. “Well, do try not to pick me up this time, dear. I’ve exhausted my lifetime’s supply of forbearance this evening.”

The faintest giggle slipped through Elena’s lips, warm and alive against the decadent chill of Evpraksiya’s voice. Despite dressing up as one of the undead, for the span of a single human heartbeat, Evpraksiya looked more alive than she had for years.
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{ STA 7 } { EVA 10 } { STR 0 } { WIS 10 } { ARC 5 } { ACC 10 }
Elena was godmodded with the consent of her
EVPRAKSIYA M. Y. VINOGRADOVA
❝The devil's voice is sweet to hear❞
xxx
STA 7 │ EVA 10 │ STR 0 │ WIS 8 │ ARC 5 │ ACC 10
LOVELY CREATURE
Dress for the Dead. Errand
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banner made by @Cecilia Merrick
Cecilia assuring her that they could leave as soon as the winner was announced did wonders for her nerves. All she had to do now was stand around in silence and wait until it was over. She could do that. Unfortunately, more and more people kept entering the Small Hall. It would be a lie to say she wasn't starting to feel slightly claustrophobic. Breathe in, breathe out. This horrible nightmare would be over soon.

It was clear that her roommate, in contrast to herself, loved this concept. From working on their dresses to doing their hair and makeup and walking out in a costume: Cecilia appeared to enjoy every moment of it. It warmed her heart to see her like that, which was a phenomenon Milica couldn't explain. This was a great mystery: she honestly couldn't imagine why it would matter to her to see her roommate enjoying silly things. Still, it did, unfortunately for her.

"Sure.. some costumes are not extremely hideous I guess", she responded to her. Clearly, Cecilia agreed with her that most outfits were revolting. The two of them were often on the same page, which is what she liked about her roommate.

At some point in the evening, Cecilia started acting weirdly. When she stretched out her hand, revealing a wrapped present with a beautiful black rose on top of it, alarm bells went off inside of her head. She could've sworn she told nobody about her birthday. Why did Cecelia have a present for her? She gave the present a surprised, disdainful look, as if it dared to wrap itself and decided to give itself to her.

Milica let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when she was actually wished a happy Halloween. It seemed her roommate in fact hadn't found out about her birthday. This was the best case scenario, she didn't want to imagine all the ruckus it would cause if it came out that today was her birthday. All sorts of people wishing her a happy birthday and such. That would be terrible.

"Eh.. thank you?" Milica responded to the sweet gesture, taking over the present. She didn't know whether it was usual to get each other gifts for Halloween and she definitely didn't get anything for her roommate. "I didn't know it was usual to give each other presents for Halloween.."

Looking around, it seemed nobody was really paying attention to them, so she just opened up the present. First off was the black rose. It was stunning. Cecilia couldn't have possibly known this was her favorite type of flower, but it was. She could already imagine it on her nightstand, serving as decoration with a classy vase.

Next, she opened up the wrapping to find a scarf inside of it. It was very soft and had the letter 'M' embroidered on one end. For better or worse, it looked.. homemade. Did Cecilia make this for her? Why.. why would she do that? Even though she held a blank face, not knowing how to respond to the presents yet, she visibly gulped. "You made this..?" she whispered softly. After looking at it for a little longer, she neatly folded up the scarf and put it aside. There was one more thing wrapped up inside the present. A long strip of parchment, decorated beautifully. She noticed it was sectioned into twelve pieces, each having the same writing on them: 'SHUT UP (single use)'. Milica couldn't hold in a little laugh, reading this. "I will have to be careful with this one."

Honestly, she felt a little bad that she didn't get Cecilia anything when she herself got these thoughtful gifts. She would have to fix this eventually. But first, a sincere thank you was in order. "Thank you, Cecilia."
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Mentions: @Cecilia Merrick
OOC notes: tysm ;3
Costume:
Reducio
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𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝
iNPC: Violette Corbeau
Dress for the Dead. Errand
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October 31st 2025
Speech: #cfa120
Thoughts: Italics
@Colin McCoire and @Kim Sato ( and Kibō! :wow: ) ^^
Emily tried to fish out Colin from the crowd with eager eyes, yet for the first time since she'd met him, Emily couldn't poke him out, his usual mop of white hair impossible to find from where she was standing. She looked down at the floor to see if he was crawling around, and up to the ceiling to see if he was hanging upside down from it - both very feasible options, knowing the bizarre entity that was Colin McCoire!

Alas, no luck yet.

Emily then switched glances back to Greebo, who was still sauntering about the room until he eventually crossed paths with Kim Sato. Emily beamed when she saw the slithery friend that was with him. She crossed over to the other side of the room at the same time she heard the voice she'd been waiting for call out to her.

"Emmi!"

"Kibō!"

Priorities.

But Colin would understand. It was no different with Greebo had it had been the other way around.

Emily flapped towards Kim and gave an excited wave to the slithery friend draped over his shoulders. "Fantabulous outfit, Kim! Very pumpkin-friendly! And a very happy Halloween to you, my snake friend...!" If Emily had treats on her, she would've gladly given sweet Kibō a few as a Halloween gift. It was just a pity - and very typical - that Tavra got to them first. The Huffie's owl really was a fluffy hoover with a beak. On Legs. And wings!

She felt Colin breeze up to her when he came bounding over. Emily turned around to face him, the first time she didn't meet his eye contact while he was wearing an impressive mask for tonight's occasion.

"Whoa-ho! Brilliant costume, Colin! It definitely checks off the criteria for spooky!" It sounded like she had more Muggle lingo to teach him if he was getting fuddled between actual pebbles-of-the-earth rocks and the popular slang phrase. It doesn't get more "Colin McCoire" of a trait than that! Best kept the compliments to a minimum level of Pureblood understanding. For both their sanities.

Emily did the routine response of giggling like a timid little dork when Colin flattered her over her costume. He wasn't wrong though! "Between my feathers and your beak, we look could look like an oversized raven!" she grinned teasingly.

She felt her hand connect his when he reached out and her cheeks glowed. She didn't mind that they did that, though the red face that came with it clashed with her navy feathers. She was just about able to get her next sentence out through minimum shy squeaking. "Happy Halloween, Colin!"

She then gasped when she suddenly remembered something and fiddled around her outfit until her hand finally found a pocket. Her hand disappearing inside, it reappeared seconds later with another feathery accessory. A dark green dream catcher with emerald feathers dangling underneath, a black twine used for the symbol and seafoam string to tie it all together. She cradled it beneath Colin's eyes, smiling bashfully.

"Auntie was at my favourite shop back home and I asked her to buy this while she was there. It's for you. No better time than now to ensure sweet dreams while we celebrate a night of monsters and mortal stories of the dead...!"

She handed it over to Colin to let him get a closer look. Without anything to fiddle with, Emily played sheepishly with her hands. "I hope you like it. Green always seems to suit you and I know you haven't always had the best night's sleep in the past, so... I figured, you know?"

Word Count: 602
Stats: Stamina: 8 | Evasion: 7 | Strength: 7 | Wisdom: 9 | Arcane Power: 8 | Accuracy: 8
Abilities: Non-Human Enthusiast |Cat's Grace |Calming Presence
Trust Yourself - Love Yourself - Be Yourself
iNPC = Casey Stone
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