Inauguration
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mentions| see bottom of page!
ooc notes| go wild - use this thread for general discussions/rp related to m.a.p.s.
- will get into some real action soon
date| 10/02/26
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"You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers."
With the whispers of Archer Duncan in her ear, a seed was planted in Valour’s mind. It quickly took root, reaping vines that ensnared their brain. A network. A ruse. A means of surveillance.
The dreams that plagued their mind threatened the very covenant of the school, and the strangers within it. How could she possibly decipher what was encoded in violent imagery and knowledge unknown to her? They would need to pry into other’s lives - more than they already perhaps do - and document rigorously. Documentation was one of the things Valour did best. What was more of an issue would be how they would get away with it; interviewing, mapping, and studying everything within the school’s ancient walls. That’s when her senior floated this clever little idea. A school-approved society interested in the “responsible investigation of the castle’s history”. Unassuming and modest, bound to attract some inquisitive minds, and a grand cover for any suspicious behaviour.
The next issue was selecting its members. Valour had always been very particular about those with whom she shared a spotlight or a pew. They would demand nothing but the utmost dedication and intellect. Every member will remain disposable. Only those that truly serve her ulterior motives may last long enough to see the society’s full potential flourish. The witch thought back to their family’s origins, centuries ago; a circle of academics, philosophers, navigators, legal scholars and politicians, working to pull the strings of the puppet show that was the world stage. They humoured the thought that their grandmother would be pleased.
Over the next few days, anonymous letters littered the owlery, addressed to a particularly selected batch of students who exuded raw potential; malleable, primitive and promising. With a bit of dramatic flair and instructions to destroy after reading, the letter contained an overview of the society and a cryptic riddle.
“Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.”
Those who figured out the location would certainly earn their keep - for now.
Valour travelled down the musty forgotten corridors of the first floor, halting before a door that had practically rusted shut. There was a ghost of an outline where a sign once marked what subject was taught here, before the classroom fell into disuse. No one really knew why; some rumoured a murder had transpired there, claiming you could still make out a chalk outline of a body if you dared enter. The prospect made her grin. Pressing their shoulder against the decaying oak, Valour shoved the door open with all of their body weight, spluttering as they upheaved decades of dust. The classroom could certainly use some cleaning before their comrades (hopefully) appeared. Dinner was to begin soon - they could only hope the others didn’t have much of an appetite tonight.
Reducio
@Archer Duncan@Cosima Aurebach-Iori@Cecilia Merrick@Hana Suzuki@Pyce Rotanski@Denise Yarbrough@Tatiana Contraire@Mirada Johnson@Lili-Blue Forester@Camille de Varenne@Alex Thompson@Lysander Rootmourn@Jason Graves@Zephyr Deakin@Sabrina Lyons@Livia Machavariani@Natasha Blackwood@Natasha Jones@Samantha Jones@Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams@Maisie Gemmell@Rosaline Everhart@Estella Cain@Harmony Grace@Lyanna Oak
"More poignant than fame or the taste of another."
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sta 5 | eva 8 | str 5 | wis 2 | arc 1 | acc 9
seer | intuition
sta 5 | eva 8 | str 5 | wis 2 | arc 1 | acc 9
seer | intuition
Last edited by Valour Argentum on 25 Feb 2026, 02:34, edited 1 time in total.
Inauguration
| C | date: 10/2/2026 location: Classroom wearing: Outfit Scarf and sunglasses |
abilities: lovely creature dialogue: #396384 mentioned: Open for interactions |
C |
| CV | A mysterious, anonymous letter bearing his name had been planted in the owlery, a discovery made by chance rather than curiosity. Perhaps the owls would have found their way even if Camille hadn’t planned on sending a letter, a rare occasion. Curiosity had prompted him to pick it up to examine its contents, then quickly grew skeptical at the instructions to burn the letter after disposal. The unlikely delivery had contained a riddle, easy enough to solve after twisting and turning the words in his mind for a minute or two, courtesy of spending months solving riddles daily to access the common room of his house. Once deciphered, the message was clear but was made no less questionable. "Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words." In simple terms, it was an invite to a meeting on the second floor, presumably one of the empty classrooms lining up in the hall, that much was clear, though he still had a multitude of questions. First meeting for what? Camille asked himself, scoffing lightly. Rolling his eyes in dismissal, he reached to throw the piece of parchment down the garbage disposal. Surely, it had to be some form of joke. Camille could not recall joining a secret society in recent times, nor had any strange additions been made to his social circle. In a quick mental discovery, the Ravenclaw boy paused just as he was about to release the letter into the pile of paper, owl dung and bits of chewed gum. If he had looked more closely, he would have gagged, alas something else, or rather someone, occupied his mind. There was someone who would absolutely go out of his way to sign him up for some cult, unless it was entirely his own planned prank in motion. Retreating his hand before he’d have to resort to digging through garbage, he read the letter one more time. “Montgomery,” Camille muttered under his breath. If it was one of his dear Gryffindors schemes, the letter was surprisingly well-crafted, almost clever, the first suggestion that his accusation might be incorrect. However, his mind was resolute. Shoving the letter into his pocket as evidence to show Harlan later, planning to list everything that was wrong with him and his foolish games Camille kept being dragged into, he turned towards the exit and stormed out. On the promised evening, after several attempts to talk himself out of it, Camille made a detour down to the second floor. He still had no idea what he was getting himself into, only the promise to himself that he'd curse his upperclassman to hell and back if he so much as tried to lay a hand on him again. After that hexed bludger incident back in December, it was clear the older boy was not above potential violence as a means to make his life miserable. A patterned silk scarf was fashionably wrapped around his head, draping effortlessly, a statement rather than his way of preserving some anonymity. Resting atop the bridge of his elegant nose, a pair of Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses completed the ensemble. Either he’d catch Harlan Montgomery leaping out from behind a statue, or he’d accidentally stumble upon a séance: children dressed in long shawls, huddled in a circle around a candle or a statue representing some godly or sinister figure. In the latter case, he did not wish to be identified before he could flee the scene. Coming to a halt by the decaying oak door, he took a hesitating glance around the hall. It was empty, allowing him to lean forward and press his ear against the surface without terribly embarrassing himself, listening for any sign of activity beyond it. If there was anyone inside the abandoned classroom, the door betrayed nothing. He clutched his scarf in one hand, balled the other into a fist, lifted it slowly and knocked three times. |
CV |
Ilias Lahlou | Ilvermorny
Inauguration
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Tatiana arrived significantly later than anticipated, or so she thought she did. Neither a planned grand entrance nor an ingenuous mishap. The plan had just simply slipped past her mind.
She had to admit the riddle did bother her for a while; she never liked answering them anyways. She often liked logic that had purpose — not those that would cause one's brain to spiral and another's to laugh. Which was probably why she didn't like mind games, tarot cards, or the lot and simply thought of them as metaphysical parlor tricks or circuitous psychological traps.
She read it twice after dinner, then folded the parchment so neatly it was almost as if it was a secret she was pretending not to keep. She hadn't actually expected it to be put up — after all, the only clubs the school ever approved of was those for sports and hobbies, not a student-lead society about “responsible investigation of the castle’s history” — or whatever that even was. But it wasn't hard to admit that she wasn't interested either.
But why oh why had she been invited to such a thing in the first place? Her grades had been excellent in HoM, yes, but surely that didn't mean she would be qualified into something like this, right? She hardly ever listened and only trusted on the fact that the class provided textbooks. Heck, she even dozed off during the professor's introduction — there was something about his voice that seemed “soporofic” and “awfully flat” that she truly couldn't help but fall asleep!
As the corridors thinned, the air changed, the stones pressed closer, then she halted to a door that answered to no one.
There was already a person waiting too, it seemed that this society was well-networked as the stranger who stood before the door was none other than Camille De Varenne, an influential first-year that Tatiana envied for having been on good terms with the older students.
She had arrived just after he knocked on the door, waited for a few minutes before asking him, “May I?”, then stepped in front of him, her hands reaching for the handle.WC: 359
@Valour Argentum ; @Camille De Varenne
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Inauguration
| ─── Classroom | 10/02/2026 ─── |
The letter had refused to leave her alone since breakfast. Natasha's ordinarily lazy morning had been interrupted by mysterious words and strange riddles. If this is a prank, it's a good one, she thought, eyeing the expensive-looking ink. Her mind whirred as she directed her focus to the contents of the letter. The envelope sat firmly in her pocket throughout the day, her fingers occasionally brushing the rough parchment, as if to confirm it was still there. The distraction nearly cost her a cauldron that afternoon. "Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words." Cults always start with fancy handwriting, right? She sat in the library, homework open but ignored, turning the riddle over in her head. Second rise, not a staircase, too obvious. The second floor? This group must be meeting in a classroom, presumably the abandoned one at the end of the corridor, after dinner most likely. If this was meant to stump her, they would have to try harder. She'd walked around the corridor twice already, on the lookout for whatever was supposed to be going on. Nothing of note was spotted - cultish or otherwise. Slightly disappointing. Natasha glanced around the room. Who else had received an invite? Why? Dressed in black - because if she was going to join a secret society, she might as well follow the general aesthetic - she slipped out of the common room. Drawing attention would defeat the point. Not even for a moment did she consider not going. The second floor landing was nearly deserted. Torchlight flickered and she noticed two silhouettes disappearing through the abandoned classroom at the corridor’s end. The door was rusted, dust coating the walls. If this is a joke, it had better be worth it Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open, wincing at the squealing sound. |
| ─── wc: 332 ─── interacting with @Valour Argentum; Open to interactions ─── thoughts in italic; Speech |
wearing outfit (no bag) ─── Prodigal Potions Learner ─── Sta 5 | Eva 8 | Str 4 | Wis 6 | Arc 7 | Acc 5 ─── |
Last edited by Natasha Jones on 25 Mar 2026, 18:38, edited 1 time in total.
Inauguration
Reducio Word Count: 619 |
Reducio Mention: -- |
Zephyr was in the Small Hall near the fireplace, busy working on his History of Magic homework. He’s got several pieces of parchment spread out in front of him and he was trying to understand a passage regarding wars and rebellions. He was almost done writing a sentence when he noticed the letter again. He'd been curious about it but had not opened it yet. Where did that come from? He was too preoccupied all day that he failed to see who sent it to him. Or was there a possibility it just appeared out of nowhere? He remembered looking around him when he received it but no one was near the vicinity. There were only a few students that time, and no one was looking at him. No one looked suspicious enough to sneak a letter to him.
Frowning, he picked it up. It didn’t bear any name, just a strange little eye drawn at the bottom part. When he opened it, the first thing he noticed was the subject, there was a note to burn it after reading. His eyebrow automatically pulled together as he read the first few lines. “What skills?” He’s never heard of the existence of this group before and suddenly, they apparently believed he had the temperament for it? He stared at the parchment for a long while and concluded in the end… “This has to be a joke.” Why him? He was not even popular or known for sneaking around. He’s not some brilliant duelist or potion expert. He was an 11-year-old who still got lost trying to find his classroom.
Maybe someone mixed him up with another Zephyr or someone thought it would be funny to see if he would actually believe this. He read the part about bringing something to the table and be willing to get into trouble. That part, he snorted. “Yeah, right.” He’s not stupid, clubs that require secrecy and rule breaking usually ended in detention, or worse. Also, if this club was so secret, how did they even know him? It’d the part that bothered him the most. He read the meeting instructions at the bottom, “Nope.” Without thinking, he crumpled it and went in front of the fireplace. Without thinking twice, he tossed the parchment into the fire. He watched it burn for a few seconds just to make sure it was gone before he focused back on his homework. He told himself it was ridiculous, some secret society. As if they would really want him and even if they did, he’s not interested.
He thought that was the end of it, but the letter and its content plagued his mind for a few days. The curiosity got the best of him. That letter didn’t arrive randomly, it’s not a coincidence either. It’s deliberate. It bothered him greatly, but he must admit, he was also curious. Who were they? How did they know him? And what exactly did they think he was capable of? His expression showed determination with the decision he made; he took a different route.
While walking, his heartbeat was louder and faster as he passed by the old path on the first floor. He’d never been to this part of the castle, purely because of the rumour surrounding this place. How true that was, he didn’t know. He reminded himself yet again that he didn’t have to do this. It’s probably some students playing games. He could just easily leave, but another thought fought back. What if this is not a joke? What if this is real and he just walked away? Seeing a few students ahead of him, he quickened his pace and joined the rest. Curiosity had won. Again.
Last edited by Zephyr Deakin on 4 Mar 2026, 02:54, edited 1 time in total.
Calming Presence | The Muggle Condition
Sta: 7 | Eva: 8 | Str: 7 | Wis: 5 | Arc: 8 | Accu: 5
Sta: 7 | Eva: 8 | Str: 7 | Wis: 5 | Arc: 8 | Accu: 5
Inauguration
created by brookline quinn!
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spacing for the space of spacing apparently |
Pyce was used to getting owls. Be it from their mum, Stella, Hecate just messing around, or more recently, their aunt Lea, sending them a broom. So it was unsurprising that Pyce got a letter. What was more surprising is that they had no idea who it was from. Usually, the envelope had a name. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary, Hecate liked playing pranks and sometimes he would start with a letter.
The lion was reasonably cautious as they opened the envelope. Inside was... Just a letter. No glitter, no charmed little things to spring out and spook them. Just paper. It was nice. But lowered the chance that Hecate had been the one to send it. Pyce pulled it out, still being careful, just in case.
Unfolding it and reading, it seemed to be a riddle. Pyce still had no idea who sent it. But- it seemed like they could find out.
"The second rise." Was that meant to be a location? Like- a room on the second floor? Or perhaps a time? It was the second month, either could be a possibility. "Knowledge sleeps without witness." An empty classroom maybe? Could be the study room. That was also on the second floor and Pyce had yet to see anyone actually use it. Or they just had horrible timing and the place was actually used. ... Maybe an empty classroom was the way to go.
"Knock on the door that no one answers." Probably an empty classroom then. Maybe abandoned? There were a few rooms that didn't really have anything. The castle was massive, it made sense that not every single room was put to use, or that classes moved.
"Find me before mouths are busied out of words." Now what could that mean? A time limit, obviously, but for how long? It wouldn't matter if Pyce was quick enough.
With that in mind, Pyce ensured they had their things on them for the day in case they needed to run to class right after. Their books and quill were slipped into a plain satchel along with their wand. Horrorcow was gently scooped up and placed on Pyce's shoulder. She was usually okay with being carted around like this, so Pyce didn't see anything wrong with her being witness to whatever was happening.
Pyce made their way to the second floor and started looking around. Walking down a hall, Pyce heard voices. They turned a corner and saw a few students enter what should have been an abandoned classroom. That was probably where they needed to go. Pyce waited until they were through the door, took a deep breath, and walked over.
There was nothing special about this door. Nothing to indicate what it had been before. Pyce stood before the door for a long moment. Whatever this was, Pyce was going to find out. They turned the handle and walked into the classroom.
486
@
ReducioI really ought to get a M.A.P.S. banner. Would be pretty fun, I think! Either way, Pyce has arrived!
"The only thing stopping me from having a dragon living in my backyard is the law. Absolutely nothing else."
Inauguration
Reducio
Date: February 10, 2026
Time: Evening
Time: Evening
“Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.”
The cryptic message arrived a few hours ago. Jason didn't have many friends, so a joke was out of the question. There aren't any students that pay him much mind, especially not to bother with some kind of prank. This means that this message has to be real, it has to be something to take seriously. A shiver went down his spine upon realizing that this was an invitation, a test!
Let me break this down, "Our rendezvous will take place on the second rise..." Second rise could refer to the moon rise, being the second heavenly body to rise, or it could simply be at the top of the second stairwell.
"Where corridors thin..." A little more obvious, a back hallway or forgotten little passageway, the end of a corridor.
"Where knowledge sleeps without witness..." Knowledge sleeps in books, this could be an old classroom, a part of the library. "Without witness" means there is usually nobody around to read it or it's hidden, so an abandoned classroom or the Restricted Section of the library is most likely.
"Knock on the door that answers no one..." Obviously, an empty room. This one seems too simple, I will come back to it when I put everything together.
"Find me before mouths are busied out of words... " A deadline clearly. Mouths mostly talk and eat, so if the mouth is too busy to talk, it eats. The deadline is before dinner.
Putting all of this together, the second rise must refer to elevation, since the end of the message is the time related part. We go up the steps into the castle at the ground floor, so second rise is the first floor. So, I need to find an abandoned classroom or a way to the restricted section before dinner starts.
Jason wandered around the various first-floor corridors until he stumbled onto a narrow passage off of the Defense Tower.
I must have walked past this a dozen of times and never noticed it! No one else has either, it seems. This is a good place to look.
Jason began following the tiny passageway, and it gently curved back toward the main part of the castle but stopped at a large oak door that was sitting slightly ajar. The sign next to the door was illegible and looked to be about to fall off. Nobody, it seems comes around here anymore. He assertively rapped on the door three times and waited a moment for an answer... Silence.
Either this is the wrong place, I am the first, or everyone is staying quiet, since knocking is not supposed to illicit a response.
Jason pushes open the door and sees a few faces looking back at him. A rush of excitement pours over him as he enters the room knowing he had solved the riddle. Closing the door behind him again he turns and greets the others.
Inauguration
location ; classroom. date ; 10/02/26 wc ; 502 ooc notes ; none.
YOU CANNOT CHANGE THE CARDS YOU ARE DEALT; JUST THE WAY YOU PLAY THE HAND.
𝕴t was midmorning when she found the letter. It was not in her routine to linger by the owlery, but something seemed to nag at her. It was so constant, that it was reduced to an unceasing, almost faded buzz. Or in better words, intuition. And her curiosity played a part too, a mysterious letter addressed to her was not something you would call a typical tuesday. And it only increased as her eyes quickly read it over. An invitation. Or a more detailed explanation, an invitation to what appeared to be a secret society. How could she possibly not go? It was not everyday you get invited to a cult. Cryptic words, and even more vague details were scribbled across the letter in imperceptible writing. With a lot more dramatics than Estella ever possessed. Time barely brushed past her as she deciphered the little cryptic note that contained the whereabouts of the first meeting.
“Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.”
Much more simply, a meeting on the second floor, probably the eerie abandoned classrooms littered around the isolated corridors. Whoever the ringmaster was, they definitely had a flair for theatrics. The only problem was, she may have to skip dinner. With that unpleasant thought in her mind, grumbling about the importance of consistent sustenance, she left the rather grimy owlery.
She did not burn the letter. Whatever temptations to do so left after the clear instructions to burn it. It was like instinct, rebellion, no matter how petty it was. With a flick to the delicately stacked card tower she idled an hour by, she stood with a resolute decision. She would go, even for just the sake of its elusiveness.
Dusk was spilled across the castle as Estella made her way into the dust-laden second floor. A cough or two escaped her as she glanced to classrooms which could possibly host a secret society. By the stars, do they never clean this corridor? Her eyes stayed a little longer at a particular classroom, years of negligence shown quite evidently. Rust had eaten into the hinges, a thin film of dust clung everywhere. That must be it, she supposed.
Slightly skipping, the clinks of her bright crimson mary janes echoing in the otherwise hushed corridor, she approached the abandoned classroom. She could see a faint outline of shadows growing from the barely opened door, giving the impression that there were some students inside already. There it was again, the faint, irritating buzz. But in what way could she take it? It was undeniably unreliable, why did she even trust its account? Only questions flooded her as she pondered, leaving confusion and frustration in its wake. This is why you act before thinking. Hence, she opened the door with a slight creak, without giving the chance for second thoughts.
—mentions ; @Valour Argentum outfit ; boom
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❝ 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭.❞
▪︎ sta 5 ▪︎ str 5 ▪︎ wis 8 ▪︎ arc 4 ▪︎ eva 4 ▪︎ acc 4▪︎
𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 V 𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐧
Inauguration
date: 10th february 2026
time: –:–
location: empty classroom
Before departing from the depths of the dungeons, Livia had ascertained that she truly lacked a desire to be known. Anything that could be traced back to truth gave her pause; thus, she had layered a lightweight blue scarf over her shoulders. She had tied her long, dark hair back in two Dutch plaits, tying each off with a blue ribbon to match the scarf. A darker scarf covered her nose and mouth, leaving just her eyes visible; those had been decorated with dark eyeliner that had taken her too long to manoeuvre. The sharp edges would make her eyes seem larger but would simultaneously bring out their brilliant green. Beneath the blue scarf, she wore a simple black mock neck jumper, black trousers and black boots, of the Victorian make, perfect for both style and adventure. She did not deign to be recognisable, not in her usual form, but like this, she supposed she could still make a statement to those in the society.
Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.*
Such were the words that accompanied Livia on a nightly trek. Puzzles were of a second nature to the twelve-year-old, who had been raised surrounded by tomes of strategy, chessboards and codes. Deciphering even a simple riddle brought her joy; uncovering an interlocking conspiracy could only make her lips curve upwards, although such a motion was quickly done away with should anyone have witnessed it. Like any prodigious daughter, she knew how to discover, how to daintily dabble in daemonic drafts as if they were a devilish dalliance. Like any prodigious daughter, she knew the importance of remaining silent, of being a forgotten shadow on a dusty daguerrotype, fading into the blackened backdrop behind her beloved brother.
The second rise – the second floor, certainly – rose like mountains to a traveller, superficially steep in the shadows of the approaching evening. Passing clouds cast ominous tenebrosity from the long reflections of suits of armour lining the corridors, but in the moment, all Livia could recall was that knowledge was to sleep without witness. The library, securely within the ground floor, was not an option in all its unspoken glory. If not the library, then where? Knowledge took infinite forms, after all, as could sleep; even within the second floor, there were numerous locations that could fit the description of the room at the end of the labyrinthine puzzle.
Knowledge aslumber must have lurked within a space for teaching, Livia ultimately decided, swivelling on her heels and meandering towards a classroom she understood was largely disused. She lifted her olive-toned knuckles and tenderly rapped them against the wood thrice as if asking to enter. But she was not making a request; without waiting for a response of any sort, she would turn the door's handle and enter.
*words from valour argentum.
a note: livia is disguised, but likely still somewhat recognisable for those who know her well. please do not metagame knowing her identity. if we have threaded before, feel free to owl/dm me regarding this.
time: –:–
location: empty classroom
roleplaying as livia machavariani
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
sta: 2 | eva: 10 | str: 0 | wis: 7 | arc: 8 | acc: 8
terrible presence
Before departing from the depths of the dungeons, Livia had ascertained that she truly lacked a desire to be known. Anything that could be traced back to truth gave her pause; thus, she had layered a lightweight blue scarf over her shoulders. She had tied her long, dark hair back in two Dutch plaits, tying each off with a blue ribbon to match the scarf. A darker scarf covered her nose and mouth, leaving just her eyes visible; those had been decorated with dark eyeliner that had taken her too long to manoeuvre. The sharp edges would make her eyes seem larger but would simultaneously bring out their brilliant green. Beneath the blue scarf, she wore a simple black mock neck jumper, black trousers and black boots, of the Victorian make, perfect for both style and adventure. She did not deign to be recognisable, not in her usual form, but like this, she supposed she could still make a statement to those in the society.
Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.*
Such were the words that accompanied Livia on a nightly trek. Puzzles were of a second nature to the twelve-year-old, who had been raised surrounded by tomes of strategy, chessboards and codes. Deciphering even a simple riddle brought her joy; uncovering an interlocking conspiracy could only make her lips curve upwards, although such a motion was quickly done away with should anyone have witnessed it. Like any prodigious daughter, she knew how to discover, how to daintily dabble in daemonic drafts as if they were a devilish dalliance. Like any prodigious daughter, she knew the importance of remaining silent, of being a forgotten shadow on a dusty daguerrotype, fading into the blackened backdrop behind her beloved brother.
The second rise – the second floor, certainly – rose like mountains to a traveller, superficially steep in the shadows of the approaching evening. Passing clouds cast ominous tenebrosity from the long reflections of suits of armour lining the corridors, but in the moment, all Livia could recall was that knowledge was to sleep without witness. The library, securely within the ground floor, was not an option in all its unspoken glory. If not the library, then where? Knowledge took infinite forms, after all, as could sleep; even within the second floor, there were numerous locations that could fit the description of the room at the end of the labyrinthine puzzle.
Knowledge aslumber must have lurked within a space for teaching, Livia ultimately decided, swivelling on her heels and meandering towards a classroom she understood was largely disused. She lifted her olive-toned knuckles and tenderly rapped them against the wood thrice as if asking to enter. But she was not making a request; without waiting for a response of any sort, she would turn the door's handle and enter.
*words from valour argentum.
a note: livia is disguised, but likely still somewhat recognisable for those who know her well. please do not metagame knowing her identity. if we have threaded before, feel free to owl/dm me regarding this.
| [staff] jessamine lancaster even you cannot conquer the sun. | marina alacrán [inpc] her hair is kinda wild and free. |
Inauguration
| Mentions: | Date: 10.02.2026 |
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| Outfit:x | Location: Classroom, Second Floor |
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𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
Maisie didn't know what to make of the letter that sat on her bedside table. The letter addressed to her had fallen onto her breakfast the day before, and she had not recognized the handwriting. It wasn't her mother's neat, small handwriting; nor her father's loopy writing or her eldest brother's penmanship with a scrawl. This she never seen before, and it puzzled her. Her first thought was her cousin, Elspeth, but Maisie couldnt think of any reason she wrote to her, unless it was a family emergency. Something about how the envelope presented itself made Maisie tuck it into her pocket and not look at it in the great hall. She opened it later that day, safe in her dormitory and read through the letter thrice, brows knitting closer with each time.
“Our first rendezvous shall take place on the second rise, where corridors thin. Where knowledge sleeps without witness. Knock on the door that answers no one. Find me before mouths are busied out of words.”
What? For the love of Merlin she had trouble comprehending it. What second rise? A tower? No, there won't be corridors, thinning or not on any tower she knew of. Her mind raced through the possiblities, when it finally dawned on her it was the second floor. An unused classroom, maybe. If she thought deciphering the "riddle" would help, she was wrong. It only made her more puzzled and slightly uneasy. Why was she to go there? A challenge for a duel? She couldn't remember upsetting anyone, and even if they did, why didn't they just hex her right there in the open? But something about the last sentence made her think there were more people than her. Which could mean either the person had resentments with a-many, or it was something less...violent. That would be it. A meeting of sorts? She shrugged to herself, but decided to check it out anyway. What was the worst to happen? Unforgivable curses were difficult to cast, and she doubted any student was able to anyway.
She made her way up to the second floor dressed in a dark wool sweater—it was still quite chilly, and school shirt, with an olive green skirt, a small notebook and pen in her pocket. She had no trouble finding the door, as when she rounded the corner, she saw a door close behind a swish of robes. Most of the classrooms in this corridor were empty, and Maisie knew ghosts couldn't do the obvious. Feeling braver than she was, she followed on, footsteps echoing in the corridor. When she reached the door, she knocked three times with her knuckles, and without waiting for an answer—as three knocks were enough to tell the occupants inside someone was outside, she went in.