The Lost Pearl 2025 Fall Ball

How Violeta Roux made even a smirk so bitingly polite was beyond Archer Duncan. That little hum she attached to the end of her words as if she had the right to be as dismissive infuriated him, even when he kept a straight, similarly painfully polite face. Intended or not, the sound that split out of her in thought featured a reluctance he had not prepared himself for. He must have had a stronger control than most because his vexation was just about begging, imploring, beseeching him to do something about the way she looked at him.

Instead, he managed to keep his wits. Raising an unimpressed brow as the brunette crossed her arms with the attitude of a toddler, he found himself without an answer to her rightful question before a sudden, daring thought crossed his mind. “I was hoping you could make it less boring." He kept the brow raised in challenge, eyes sparkling with one half amusement, half determination.

"You wanna dance, pretty boy ?" Five pointed words flashed across his mind, reverberating in his skull. Aimed at him with such viciousness and sarcasm he almost wanted to take it as a compliment out of spite. A brief flash of remembrance washed over his face, and his lips tugged upwards in a crooked smirk. Sharply featured with angular cheekbones and a perfectly shaped nose retained unsigned despite his teenage growth. Dark hair cascading down his back in waves and hazel eyes so easily lost in they were labyrinthine, perhaps his traits were romanticised yet there was no doubt that it was how others viewed him. Not for Violeta, though, he supposed. Violeta was not like other girls; or boys, for that matter.

Oh a twisted part of him would have given anything to agreed that moment. His eyes flitted down as he hid a small smile.

"I believe that dates are just such an old fashioned thing, hm?"

He glanced back up again, eyes flitting over Violeta in scrutiny in an attempt to dissect her motives of disagreement. He did not smile as he spoke, just tilted his head slightly in invitation - or perhaps challenge. "Only if we make it old fashioned." He did not take Violeta's hint, or perhaps he did not want to.

Romance - what an odd notion. Archer was not envious of the rare few happy couples at Hogwarts, nor was he sympathetic to the majority that were not. He pitied the people who were too busy with their tongues in someone's mouth to take note of anything else. Entwined hands, shared smiles, that glint in the eye that meant they knew something special - they were things he would perhaps never experience, but he was content with it. Romance had never been a forte of Archer's... but then again, exploration was. And recklessness more so.

Likely surprisingly both Violeta and himself, he extended a hand, and without further ado, asked, “Come, dance with me."

@Violeta Roux | Banner by Pericles Dralt

Aamon. No, the vengeful thing wearing his face and his name, did not retreat when Nabi stepped back and rejected him. Aamon would have been mortified after mustering the courage to try as men often must do - the ones to make the first move, to risk humiliation and dismissal. A truth he would be certain of, even if another hand guided the emotional eviction.

But this was not Aamon, not really. This creature did not feel shame in the same way Aamon did. This creature smiled instead. The expression was slow, deliberate, the kind of smile that suggested he had already anticipated the recoil and found it amusing. Who would truly desire a boy like Aamon, a child with ambition in theory and hesitation in practice. Candlelight traced the angles of the Slytherin's conventionally handsome face too cleanly, catching in his pale blue eyes where something old and watchful stirred, like a tide that had learned patience.

Destruction was an art. "Attempt?" Aamon murmured, his voice low, intimate, threaded with quiet certainty. "No, Nabi. I don’t attempt."

Aamon closed the distance again, it was not far, just a few steps and nothing more. She did not run and perhaps she should have. The movement was not hurried, nor was it forceful, but he moved as if the space between them had never truly belonged to her. Aamon hand did not reclaim her waist, but hovered just close enough that the warmth of his hand lingered, a promise or perhaps a threat rather than a claim.

"You leaned back," Aamon observed, stating such as though he was confiding a secret. "Not away... There's a difference." There was a swamy confidence, something she would have observed in Aamon's brothers but never in him.

Aamon's gaze flicked to the necklace briefly, reverent in a way that was deeply wrong, then returned to her eyes that seemed to lack than human spark. "Courtly intent is such a contemptibly fragile, phrase," his tone sharpened. "As soft as rot. It implies permission, persistence, patience. Pursuit is not intended for courting," he was denied after all.

"You've made a terrible mistake," he declared. The lake below stirred, dark and soundless. "I am everything that would have made your parents proud, given you the esteem and privilege your family will spend the next decade chasing."

He was frustrated, he felt undermined and most of all he knew that a moment like this would follow this young idiot all his Hogwarts years. It was too easy. He took a step towards the girl, enough to invade her personal space, to force her to step back. Towards the edge. Towards the water... and when close enough, Aamon would push. Indeed, a pair of manicured hands with deceptive force would attempt to push the girl back, to cause her tumble over any guard rails.

"Maybe next time you will gratefully accept a gift when offered," he sneered and then turned to walk away regardless of success.

Their dynamic was equivocal, an ambiguous mess of teenage sentiments open to perception. Their smiles were crooked, their flirting was twisted. They behaved more like puppets motivated by teenage recklessness than love. Neither of them regarded each other as their date, yet both of them behaved as if the other was their partner. Archer did not like Violeta. Archer did not like anyone. Love was not in his nature, much less this immature infatuation that both bewildered and excited him.

Accent a pitched unmistakable American, she spoke: “Now that, I will not refuse.”

As Violeta took his extended hand, Archer led her with grace to the dance floor, the centrepiece of the shipwreck, yet a locale the two of them would not have dared touched. Dance required an intimacy either of them were not yet open to, hands clutched together, fingers intertwined. It was no longer an art, it was the binding of two souls who fought to be apart, protruding spikes searching for the gaps between ribs. They moved with simple efficiency, and on Archer’s part, not enjoyment, but rather, unspoken tension. His hand hovered just above her waist, too hesitant to touch her dress and feel the flesh that laid below. The other barely graced Violeta’s skin, fingertips touching fingertips, thumb resting on thumb. He managed a small, barely visible smirk, shadowed under the darkened lights of the wreck.

Waltzing was not a skill Archer had mastered, but improvisation was simple enough. They moved hauntingly, one footfall after the other, and Archer’s dark, agile grace showed under the flickering illumination of the floor. Those bird of prey eyes stumbled for a fleeting moment, intensity slipping away like a goshawk who admitted to losing their prey. Eventually, as they stepped forward and back in a steady repetition, left and right with twirls as their interludes, Archer managed to settle into the rhythm of their dance, the same way he had long settled into the rhythm of his grief. It was uncomfortable, the same way his boots scarped against the unnatural ground, yet it was his solace, the only thing he had ever known.

And so there was a swiftly forming pit in Archer’s stomach, and a void in his chest cavity. Its harassing presence badgered him for answers, yet he supposed its question was a fair one. A wrongness crept into his movements, as if he were a doll controlled by a tyrannical deity. If not for Violeta’s steadying hands he felt as if he could have lurched, such an uncanny tingle up his spine there was. He could have found comfort anywhere else, yet here, in relationships that would never last, in moments that would never preserve, he rested his case.

“Are you liking this, hm?” Archer inquired with a sweet tilt of the head, yet there was nothing sweet about the way he spoke. He was not liking this, but he had long grown accustomed to committing crimes without foundation — it was an unhealthy habit he managed to indulge in.

@Violeta Roux

04/10/2025
mentions @Frederick Buckley @Ally Craig @Marcus Contarini Crawford	ooc hi c:
location: great lake

Maisie was rather put out when the idea of the cards being riddles were dismissed. She still had a hunch that the cards were more than just words on paper. Why else would they be given cards written in vanishing ink? She had also seen other people looking at it. But perhaps it was a decoy. A thought suddenly shot in her head, "The Lost Pearl. Lost. What if-" Her voice trailed off. It was highly unlikely a hunt would be based off a single word. Maybe it was nothing. She shrugged to herself, and straightened in her seat, focusing her eyes on the plate in front of her.

She took a sip of fuzzy drink out of her glass cup. It was like little fireworks exploding in her mouth. The sparkling water was very strong, yet tasted nice. Better than any she'd ever drunk. Maisie dug into her plate of food with gusto. Although the amount of rich and gourmet food she'd eaten was plentiful, the food tonight stood out. One could say it was because of where the meal was, and who dined with you. Something about eating with your friends always made things better. Mouth too full to reply to Fred's appreciative remarks about the meal, she just nodded in agreement. Gulping down the last bite, she said, "Yeah, but I'm not planning to go. Are you?"

Maisie leaned back in her chair and looked at nothing in particular. Marcus seemed to think there was more to the cards like she did. She picked it up again and studied it. "Kings of the tide... Something to do with Poseidon?" She was beginning to side with Fred. Maybe it was background information, and not a riddle.

The girl yawned, but refraining with difficulty, a stretch. She was full, and the candles gave a nice glow. All around were the sounds of chatter and laughter and the tinkling of cutlery on ceramic. She felt content and sleepy. It was a happy evening. One of her favorite nights since the beginning of school. If even one month ago, just before arriving at Hogwarts, Maisie had been asked what she thought she'd be doing one month later, never in a billion years would she reply 'with friends at a ball'. If it had been suggested, she'd have laughed. How would she be with friends, let alone at a ball? But she was, now one month later. Bading goodbye to her friends as they either headed back or to the Weeping Shore, she made her way to the Drowned Palace. And when she finally stepped out again, it was darker than before. She concluded that even the best parties had to end. With a last look at the glimmering shipwreck, she turned and headed up to the castle.

ooc: permission to godmod everyone's characters



Action: eats, talks, reflects and leaves thread
keen eyes, Stamina: 6|Evasion: 6| Strength: 5| Wisdom 4|ArcPower: 6|Accuracy: 8|
(It's actually just in my signature at the bottom..)

date	place	tags	wc	speech
04/10/25	The Autumn Ball	@Leo Noxley	1011/200	#36563c

outfit: Gown, Hair, Necklace, Earrings, Shoes, Perfume

The conversations were flowing in the room. Everyone seemed relaxed, though some pairs looked more tense than others; the atmosphere was amazing. Rosaline’s focus was all on Leo and his words. The young Ravenclaw laughed at her whimsical thought about the giant squid. The fact that he enjoyed her little speculation made her quite happy. The corners of her lips curled up slightly. The rosy pink lipstick she had put on before the ball started was still on, making her whole face look more delicate. The Great Lake topic reminded her about the boat ride on the very first day when she arrived at Hogwarts. Rosaline got on the boat with the same group of people who were in the train compartment. At the same time, she had noticed Lucille and Leo seemed to be on the same boat. After that, the entire boat ride was absolutely an adventure. “Do you remember the boat ride on the first day?” she chuckled, “I even fell in the lake. It was so thrilling. But I didn’t see any sea creatures when I was in the water, though. It was too dark.” The experience didn’t reduce Rosaline’s curiosity at all. Her eyes still glistened with her passion for the magical creatures.

Her gaze shifted from Leo to her plate. There was some grilled fish left. Rosaline carefully stuck the fork into it, a perfect one-bite size. The fish was still delicious. She started wondering if all the dishes were cooked by the House Elves. They didn’t have one at her home, not even in her grandparents’ house. So, she never seen one before. The wandering thoughts drifted back as soon as Leo talked to her again. After her compliment, Leo’s expression visibly flustered, though Rosaline was too focused on her grilled fish and missed it. As the Ravenclaw boy said he could change his hair and eyes to any colors, Rosaline’s eyes lit up. Carefully, she wiped her mouth with a napkin on the table, gracefully, and observed Leo, whose eyes were closed for now. It was always fascinating to her to see Leo using his metamorphmagus ability. Rosaline lost in thought as she looked at Leo. His eyelashes looked like a butterfly’s wings, very pretty. Then he opened his eyes. The color in them had turned to a blue-green color. Rosaline was stunned at the sight for a moment, “Whoa…” Then she composed herself and grinned at him, “Now, we have similar eye color.” Her tone was cheerful. “Next time, if you change the hair color, I should wear a wig to match yours,” she joked lightly. Rosaline enjoyed this little secret between Leo and her. Looking at Leo show off to her, she chuckled. This would be a very dear memory to her in her first year at Hogwarts.

Grabbing the glass on the table. The pumpkin juice inside was cool, pretty perfect for the temperature in the room. Rosaline took a sip of it. A smile appeared on Leo’s face. Though the scene was usual in this conversation, she was still glad he was having a good time as she was. He accepted her invitation to her grandparents’ house. She flushed a little. Although this was her proposal, the fact that she was a bit flustered was quite funny. Her hand still on the glass, she had another sip of the pumpkin juice to calm herself. She replied with a wide grin, “Of course. The summer break sounds perfect. I think my cousins would be around at that time, too.” Rosaline paused, contemplated, and slowly put the glass back on the table, “Maybe I can invite more friends, we can all have a big party.” She giggled as she pictured all her friends playing together in the garden of the Wrenford estate. That would truly be a great pleasure.

While they continued chatting, Rosaline toyed with her necklace a bit. The blue gem suited her eyes color wonderfully. Leo agreed with her remark about the fish and expressed his feelings about the whole event. They absolutely done a great job to arrange all these during a semester. It was hard for her to imagine how they squeezed time in between the endless homework and other matters in their life. She nodded at Leo’s comment.

After Rosaline blurted out that she was excited to dance with him, she was flustered by her own words again. Maybe she should think twice then open her mouth, maybe. The method sounded good, yet she didn’t know if she could follow it in all situations. Her expression betrayed her frequently, she wasn’t a kid who was good at hiding feelings. Luckily, Leo didn’t think her words were embarrassing. On the contrary, he seemed to be a bit nervous too. The dance. It was just friends dancing on a perfect night like this, nothing big deal. Rosaline glanced at Leo. He said, “I’m excited to go dance with you, too.” He spoke softly. The server brought the desserts to their table, changing the tension of their conversation. “Then we should enjoy our last desserts and head to the dance floor,” she stared at the desserts on the plates and said with a joyful tone.

The edible pearls on top of the muffin looked chewy, and she couldn’t wait to try them. Rosaline took a little bit of it. It was all that she had imagined the flavor would be, even better. She responded to Leo’s comment, “Indeed, it is so good. And it matched the theme here, too— The Lost Pearl.” Chuckling lightly, she finished the muffin so quickly, with a beautiful manner, as her grandmother taught her. She looked at Leo’s face as he spoke. The flustered feeling was almost gone now. “Your warning has been accepted. Though my dancing skills might be a little rusty now. Please bear with me,” she laughed slightly.

Rosaline noticed they had finished the desserts. She smiled at Leo and rose. Reaching a hand to him, she said, “Shall we? You don’t need to worry too much. I’ll lead you.”

stats: stamina: 6 | evasion: 5 | strength: 5 wisdom: 8 | arcane Power: 7 |accuracy: 4 Lovely Creature notes: actions: Leaves the thread. Pixel art from: 蘇提比

The music that filled the ball seemed to distort as Nabi's heels clicked back, her hand raised slightly, hovering like a pale shield under a wave of lit arrows.

But arrows would not be seen beneath the candlelight, no.

As the young Aamon Athanatos stepped forward, his words crashed, dented metal, while his teeth glinted in a smile. Blue to light to be alive, focused on gray. Intentions were warm like the quiet reminder of where his hand once was, warning with a certainty smooth enough to leave a soul stained.

"A difference?" A tide of uncertainty spilled over her tone, and her eyebrow raised. The Aamon she knew would not have been so quick to let the waters smooth over the miscalculation...

Unless.

Her wrist would strain, the jade at her waist cold against her unraised hand, while his eyes looked down at the gift around her neck. Metal scraped beneath the edge of the word pursuit that left him in a sharp tone, the arrow grazing skin.

A warning, foolish I was...

Nothing came without a cost, Nabi knew that. Just as she knew he was leading her astray, closer to the edge, while she sought to tighten the searing chords to her play the way her jaw clenched when she felt the railing against her back.

But the young Park had already chosen to accept his gift.

As the links creaked with an old groan of an ancient protest, all she could do was...

Fall.