So it Begins
Beneath the high ceiling of the Hogwarts Ballroom and the gentle light of the evening glowing through high windows, Lottie lit a round of tall white candles that sat upon gilded holder and waited for the first of the Muggle History Association's members to arrive.
It had been a sudden and unique thought for the girl, at once fueled by rebellion and desire, to create a society of individuals that shared her same passion for muggle history as she did. She wanted an outlet, something more than just dusty books and old journals. She needed something real and tangible, something to prove that it wasn't just antics. So she created a club. A club of culture, both refined and unorthodox, expressionism and creativity and respect. She imagined it was perhaps wishful thinking, but it was fun to dress up anyways.
The ballroom was decorated as well as she could muster with limited resources. Two tables held a bounty of rich foods, fruits and stew and roasted birds laid upon silver platters. Red silk was hung from the walls, drooping lazily like honey and making the room seem small and clustered, gold tassels hanging from the hems. For seating, a few padded chairs of various materials and colors collected neatly in a semi-circle, pillows cast around the ground.
Where there was not silk or food, there was paintings. Replicas, of course, but large and meaningful. The School of Athens, The Birth of Venus, The Wedding at Cana, all of Lottie's favorites. Even Mona Lisa smiled coolly from her perch. Lottie had chosen the Renaissance not only because it was a time period of lavish architecture and good food, but because it was the beginning of a new age. The start of something new and fresh, a culture that centered around art and individualism and expressionism, no longer led by the kings and tyrants that plagued the earth. It was the glorification of man, of the human experience.
The Renaissance era wasn't just about looks- it was about the liberation of the human race, and reclaiming art as a valuable trat in humanity. Lottie loved it, nearly more than she loved the Romans and the Greeks and their own more distant revolutions. It reminded her that she was bound to her emotions and her emotions alone, and that she had no obligation to anyone else.
The dress-up factor was optional, of course, but Lottie had gone a bit overboard at Gladrags. She wore a long, dark green dress, with subtle floral detailing etched into the smooth silk. Her favorite part was the sleeves, which completely engulfed her arms and flowed around her frame in a great elegant swatch of drooping fabric. Her hair was curled in fine coils, falling over her soft corset-top and curving elegantly around her eyes. Wedged loosely on the top of her head was a shiny green headband of fabric that matched her skirt. She felt elegant and alive, a sensation she had been chasing for years.
Carefully, she finished off the last candle and stepped back to take a look at her handywork. The other members would be arriving any moment now.
| ✦"You better start walking. Love takes miles."✦ STA 8 │ EVA 8 │ STR 6 │ WIS 6 │ ARC 6 │ ACC 7 |
So it Begins
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Tatiana arrived into the ballroom quietly, the oak doors closing behind her with a soft thud, her entrance soft enough to not disturb even the warm hush of candlelight. She paused at the doorway, allowing her eyes to adjust, not because it was dim, but because she wanted to take in the room slowly, with purpose. She refused to walk blindly into anything, not even something that was as simple as a club meeting.
Her gaze first went to the ceiling, tracing how the golden glow from the tall windows spilled across the patterned stone and polished floors. It was warm, surprisingly warm for such a cavernous space. Whoever set the place up, she observed, not assumed, must've really had an understanding of ambience. The candles, which were clustered into gilded holders, were casting soft, almost angel-like halos around themselves, the beeswax mingled faintly with something richer, perhaps poultry, fruits, or a hint of spice from stew. Clearly, someone had taken this seriously.
She stepped further, no word escaping her lips, never had she offered words without intention, but her face had shifted almost imperceptibly from cool neutrality to something that resembled interest. She lifted her brow slightly, only slightly, a calmer set to her shoulders. Not approval, but something close.
The decorations were one to catch her attention next. There was red silk draped along the walls, heavy and lush, the fabric folded in long, languid sweeps that reminded her of curtains used in theatre or the robes.of ancient nobles. Gold tassels had accented the edges, catching the candlelight and warming the room. It wasn't perfect , Tatiana made a mental note of how one side had sagged lower than the other, but still, she noticed the effort behind it. That counted for more than precision ever did.
Tatiana's feet walked her towards the art. They were replicas, clearly, but well-chosen ones they were, yes. The School of Athens, with its sweeping arches and philosophers deep in their eternal debates, that one had earned a longer look. If only she had appreciated the geometry of it, the symmetry, and the order hidden within the chaos of so many bodies. The Birth of Venus had radiated softness and idealism, too whimsical for her own personal taste, but still undeniably iconic. And the Mona Lisa, well, the girl had to stop a faint, amused exhale from escaping. The woman's unreadable stare had met with her own unreadable stare. Quite amusing.
She stood there for a moment, her hands lightly curled and clasped behind her back as she took in the semi-circle of seats close by, the cushions arranged around them. Whoever had prepared this surely invented conversation, interactions, engagement with one another. Tatiana smirked, how bold. She wasn't the one for dramatics or excessiveness, but she was one for intention. And everything here, from the food to the art to the drapery, they spoke of intention.
Only after surveying the room did she finally acknowledge the girl standing near the candles. She didn’t speak nor did she smile. She didn’t intrude on whatever the girl was thinking, nor assume an invitation before it was offered. Instead, she gave a subtle nod, polite, reserved, and almost old-fashioned in its courtesy, the sort of gesture that conveyed respect without presumption.
Then she moved quietly toward one of the seats near the back of the semi-circle, her posture straight, her steps precise. She rested one hand lightly on the top of the chair but didn’t sit yet. She simply waited, poised and composed, making it abundantly clear she was present, attentive, and ready but would not take a single action that was not rightfully hers to take.
@Charlotte Winfield
@Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams
@Mahlioz Evethisawe
@Graci Laren
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So it Begins
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────So it Begins | Outfit ♜ #6a0000 ♜ Ballroom ♜ @Charlotte Winfield, @Tatiana Contraire ♜ Thoughts |
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| ── | I'LL BE RE-WRITING THIS, as me and Lottie are planning an interaction between the two earlier in the day<3 The Muggle History Assosciation. A very on the nose name, but also formal and dignified. Graci was excited beyond measure, as History of Magic was her second favourite class (with charms being her first), and muggle history was even more chaotic, with a tad less focus on purely the magic aspect of things. Needless to say, this was one of the only clubs she wanted to join for actual interest other than mild curiosity. It was relatively new, but the decor made it evident that the low attendance was not for lack of effort. Graci wasn't one hundred percent sure what the dress code was for the meeting, but upon arrival she found herself glaringly underdressed. Though, that was not only because of how gorgeously put together the room was, but also because she had never expected anyone to show up in such a lavish dress. Ah, that must be the organizer. Or a very enthusiastic member, perhaps? There were only two other people in the room (besides herself), but Graci was far too enraptured by the furnishings to introduce herself quite yet. The candle light made for some intriguing mood lighting, though quite fitting for such a distinguished club, though Graci thought the hanging silk set it apart even more. I wonder where she got all this... probably not muggleborn, then. Unless she is just a very, very rich muggleborn with a penchant for overpacking. After glancing around for more than was polite (okay, staring, not glancing), Graci decided it would be rude to go on without an introduction, even though other people were yet to come. "So... I'm assuming this is The Muggle History Association? At least, it should be if I got the dates right?" She decided it was better to start with a question than just her name, directing it towards the taller girl out of the two already there, for no specific reason other than she was dressed more fancifully. Graci sent a small, terse smile to the other girl, nearer to the table, wondering why she seemed more a statue of poise and quiet confidence than young girl. Hm, it must be nice, being so organized and assured. Graci herself was toying with one of the longer strands of her hair, feeling rather awkward in the loud silence, thoughts going through her head at the speed of light, consisting mostly of the usual 'what ifs' that constantly followed any sentence and word she uttered. Rather inconvenient, but alas, it could be worse and she could have tripped, making a fool of herself in front of her seemingly regal peers. Breathe in and out, no one is going to laugh at your gracelessness, Graci thought, a metaphorical shudder going through her mind. Remember, you like talking to people, they'll be kind enough. Mental pep talks were an inevitable part of the young Gryffindor girl's life, happening with a shocking frequency. Though, they were rather inconvenient as they often caused her to miss what someone said in reply, which made for a lot of awkward 'excuse me? I didn't quite hear you's. Listening to her own advice, she took a deep breath, the strong aroma coming off from the food at the heavy laden table filling her senses. Well, at least I know she's hospitable. It did seem to be a great deal of unnecessary effort, but it did not go unnapreciated in the least. Graci could appreciate forethought and resourcefulness. I wonder how she managed to get a hold of all this. The kitchens, obviously, but... well, just wow. | xxx |  |
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♜Word Count: 594 | 09/20/25 - Code Inspired By some of Draven Mirador's coding |
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Stats: Sta 7 ☆ Eva 8 ☆ Str 6 ☆ Wis 7 ☆ ArcPow 5 ☆ Acc 7 ☆ Prodigial Charms ☆ Sixth Sense
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So it Begins
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