Hogwarts Hosts and Wondrous Tea OPEN Locked

@Ginevra Tsuchiya

There is something inside a child that tells them when to and when not to do stupid or silly things. It is a secondary instinct when interacting with adults and a sort of prod when interacting with older children. It's a bit of a warning, an urge to just sit down and shut up and to be inconspicuous because you are not needed in this specific conversation.

Piérre had no such instinct. It was always either on or off for him, and especially in this case, his neurons were hardwired into "Go" mode. Elf-like ears piqued as he listened around the room subconsciously, inadvertently trying to pick up shreds and pieces of conversations that usually would have gone unnoticed by the casual listener. It wasn't that Piérre was aiming to share any tales in gossip or be malicious in any sense. It was just intrigue and curiosity that led him to eavesdrop on other people.

It wasn't until the girl introduced herself to him that Piérre refocused on thee situation, trying to bring himself to block out the sounds of people all around him. It was much... louder than it should have been... as if twice the people were there than what Piérre could see.

"Nice to meet you, Ginny! I like that name, it's really pretty." Though Piérre had heard many names, of mostly Italian, he still found the English names puzzling. They were so bland, disinteresting... lacking of something. Lacking the little bit of spice which caused vowels and consonants to roll off the tongue with an accented flourish. However, French was indeed intriguing. Piérre was not familiar with the tongue, certainly not even slightly, but he knew a name and a name he liked when he heard one.

At the second question about his supposed French heritage, Piérre almost choked on his tea. Not rudely, not in insult, but just the fact that it was so ironic. Sputtering, Piérre laughed heartily. "Oh, no! I'm not French at all! Sono Italiano! I'm Italian!" Indeed, the words that lead up to, and especially the tongue which he divulged into was slanted and strongly carried the language's accent and drawn out vowels. Shrugging, Piérre put a mint leaf in his cup, humming to himself so that his next words were almost musical. "My guardians really liked the French name Piérre, so... they decided to give it to me. My twin's name is Romeo, so there's the nationality difference."

Piérre smiled gently, in case he had accidentally upset the girl. "Hey, it's alright. Nobody here's even asked me that question before." Piérre tugged at his collar a bit, trying to rid himself of the slight itchiness of it. Between nerves and time, it was just a thing that was bound to happen. "But I really like the name too. It really kind of fits me, I think..." Piérre mulled over the question a bit. It was kind of odd that he was given such a non-native name.

"What about you? You think your name fits you? Oh, don't hesitate to tell me if you want some sugar or more tea. I gotcha!" Piérre nodded to the pot and the sugar lumps. This conversation was pretty nice. He wouldn't have given up this time to save his stress even if he was held at gunpoint.

Interacting with Serena Bowen
Mentioning Dale Kurt

The fluster of unexpected attention was a good look on anyone, but it suited Miss Bowen particularly well. She had a sweetness about her face that the tinge of pink ever so slightly darkening her features only highlighted. To Evelynn, she seemed to glow. As though the embarrassment of her own spotlight had ignited a flame within her to cast the petite blonde in a radiance beyond anyone else within that room. She was an angel that had been brought down from the heavens for the Gryffindor's delight. The delicate cerulean of her eyes, gems to behold and admire. In this persona, Evelynn good lose herself among the shimmer of their light, and yet…

The girl had not smiled. Not yet. And the counter she had proposed, the hesitation in the tone of voice as she spoke her reservation at interrupting such an occasion as this with the playing of what would no doubt be another beautiful melody rent at the lioness's heart. But before Evelynn could speak a work of soft support, to offer her counter of the girl's humble worry, to fit the pieces of her confidence neatly together into the beautiful image she had witnessed what couldn't have been more than a week prior in this very room, another interrupted.

It seemed as though she wouldn't be permitted solitude with her quarry without some sort of test of character. Over the shoulder of Miss Bowen, Evelynn's gaze flicked to the approaching figure of one of the club's (arguably) more physically desirable individuals, Dale Kurt. Even she could not deny the magnetism he possessed, and she found her gaze lifting briefly from her lost little lamb, peering over her shoulder as the boy drew near. Rather than feel a sense of attraction at his countenance, however, the lioness felt the rising flag of a challenge. His gaze was set upon her prize, his trajectory for the pair of girls. Unless Evelynn was sorely mistaken, he was headed straight for them.

Sure enough, not a moment later, he had pulled the girl's bookbag from her shoulder, taken her hand in his much as Evelynn had moments before, and expressed a similar desire to be blessed with the melody of her whim. Although he had spoken but a few words, the Gryffindor already felt at a loss. How could she compete with him. His looks alone were enough to make the most steadfast of girls swoon on the spot, to release a net of butterflies in their bellies. It certainly didn't help that although she'd managed to get off to a good start, Evelynn really wasn't sure how to proceed from here. Should she back down? Relinquish the girl to her new Prince? Should she speak up for herself? Treat him like a villainous foe in need of thwarting?

Evelynn hesitated, uncertain, and that was when she lost whatever foothold that she had, for Kurt had utilized one last strategy. Tears. Moreover, his words played to the girl's empathy, falsely inviting her to turn him away in favour of Evelynn should she so desire. But of course, who could possibly say 'no'? She was just about to take her retreat, to look elsewhere, when he made eye contact. All of a sudden, she understood. He was goading her deliberately. Of course. Why wouldn't he? Quite a clever strategy, actually, now that the Gryffindor had figured out the ruse. Who wouldn't want to be fought over?

Not one to allow the opportunity to pass by, Evelynn did her best to take the cue and play her part. "Oh, but was it not I who spied her first?" Chimed the Gryffindor, her tone sweet molasses as she stepped in, slipping her hand to guide Bowen's free hand to the crook of her own elbow. "There is no doubt, of course, that your beauty is enough to feast all eyes who would gaze upon you," she went on, uttering whatever flowering nonsense came to mind as it did, "but I would be lying if I didn't say I would be roth if I couldn't not claim it for myself."

It was only then that she allowed her gaze to stray from the blonde Princess to her rival, awaiting his rebuttal. Only…it wouldn't come. Rather than upon Bowen as it should have been, Kurt's gaze had wandered to another. Evelynn's own eyes flicked to track the target of his attention before glancing back just in time to receive the bag he had previously relieved from Bowen. To say that she was disappointed in him would be an understatement. But he must have had his reasons for scurrying off. Evelynn would just have to take it in stride.

"His is the loss," she declared with an airy note of victory. "I would have battled with every fiber of my being just for the chance to be regaled by your soulful melodies once again," she sighed, shrugging the girl's bag over her shoulder with easy grace. "And no, of course I will hold your bag," she smiled. "I would consider it an honour that I might relieve you of any burden, if only for a moment. Please, come this way," she added, offering her arm as guidance.

Continuing here...

Nico felt rather fullfilled seeing how Quinn indeed enjoyed the soft cushioned couch. Atleast she felt like she was doing something right. Her chest felt tight again as she tried to not blush too much but it was so hard not to. His cute freckled face that she could finally see since he sat down, his playful locks of hair that lightly bounced against his forhead... Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare,...

And she was staring at him again.

With brute force, she turned her head away from him, trying to contain her rather obvious emotions. Nico conviced herself that it wasn't obvious, hoping it would fade after a while on its own. Facing the otherside of the room, she glanced at the many pairs that had formed and how they elegantly chatted among one another. Each member of their club treated their ' ' client ' ' with lots of attention. Maybe...

That gave her an idea. In the midst of her flustered blushy cheeks, the young prefect looked back at Quinn who really seemed to relax in the adjusted seat. Maybe she could- Well, not be his servant. That wasn't the word she was looking for. Was there a word for it? Slightly hesitant, Nico nervously dusted off her socks and skirt before finally sitting down next to her near to 6 feet special someone. His warm laugh really didn't make it much easier for her to unredden her face...

RP continues here

Interacting with @Annie Morgan

Luna slightly raised her eyebrows at the moment cinnamon tea was mentioned. Surprisingly, it was the kind that Luna was about to choose if the young girl in front of her did not suggest to help. What a funny coincidence.

Drinking cinnamon tea gave her that warm fuzzy feeling, gave her the feeling of hugging her cat and just relaxing with him. There was also a weird mix between spicy and sweet in the cinnamon tea, which made it even better. The spiciness was different from eating pepper, there was just a difference that she could not explain, but it was incredibly tasty The sweetness would touch into the deepest part of the drinker's heart, and would stay in there for long enough so that the drinker could feel the sweetness inside deeply.

Green tea was not a bad choice either. Drinking it gave her a lot of different feelings. It was like the mix of all of these adjectives: nutty, vegetal, buttery, floral, swampy, fruity, and oceanic. Questionable it was for green tea to be able to remind her of so many things, but even after she listed those, Luna could still feel it was not enough to describe how it felt like to drink green tea, If she had to conclude them in two words though, they would be sweet, bittersweet.

"Well then, I would like to have a cup of cinnamon tea, if you do not mind." Shrugging her thoughts off, Luna went back to reality, where she was still standing in this strange club with a girl in front of her. Just keep thinking about tea made her want it even more. Luna did not want to deal with that feeling of hers when she would be able to get it soon enough. As long as she could stay patient.

Annie? Annie. What a strange name, as strange as its owner. It was more of a good strange than a bad one. If it was a bad one, definitely she would put her guard up and most likely they would be in an argument, or at least the girl would be annoyed by her. That was just how it worked.

Without introducing her last name, Annie just stopped there. It was not a situation where she had never seen before, in fact, a lot of people did the same thing. As for Luna, that was just weird. She barely called others by their real names, in fact, the girl only did it to two or only one people. The reason was just, back then when she first knew them, she was just, way more naive and would not mind calling others by their first name. Now, she was too lazy to change it back.

"Luna Choi. Luna as the moon, Choi as the mountain." Despite Annie knowing her name, Luna couldn't just not introducing herself and move on, especially when she highly doubted that she had ever met the girl. As for the fact that Annie knew her real name, most likely she got it from the list of prefect hanging somewhere. After the spider attack in the common room of the Slytherin, she realized the importance of knowing other prefects' names. Luna would most likely check it out later if she didn't forget.

The Slytherin prefect nodded at the request of following the girl to a private room. "I am not hungry. However, if you want to have some cakes, I do not mind either. Also, I do not have any allergies." The Slytherin prefect shrugged while saying it. She did not have a full stomach or an empty one either. The girl would not mind having a little dessert as a bonus.

Staring at Annie, the snake did not say anything but thought about what she said. In reality, she would never go cast a spell on another student. Not when she had to break the rule to do it. Too many risks.

Between being humiliated by whoever staff was going to give her detention, and get the satisfying feeling from attacking another student, she would choose the first one. Luna could obtain the second one whenever she wanted in the dueling club, which was why she would rather not destroying her record of not getting detention since she entered Hogwarts than risking it. It would be a fool action for a Slytherin to do what they wanted instead of thinking of the consequences.

"Anyway, just lead me to a private room."

Thread continues here

@Ginevra Tsuchiya
Apologies for the desperately late reply!

"Milk? Absolutely! Here ya go!" Piérre gently tipped the pitcher, allowing the silky smooth liquid to steam into Ginny's cup. Without realizing it, Piérre began to subconsciously hum an eccentric little tune, which if anyone was familiar with the old Disney classics, would find it to be "A Very Merry Unbirthday". There was something enchanting about Alice in Wonderland to the young Britalian, especially the eccentric and madman character of the Mad Hatter. The only true character who was indeed insane, who lived with his best friends: a Dormouse and a March Hare.

Piérre liked to think of himself as a March Hatter. Dapper and often nonsensical, yet not entirely off his rocker to the untamed eye, perhaps the masquerading Hufflepuff indeed contained a modicum of untempered chaos in his core. A little breath of change and silliness. Fingers absentmindedly played with a sugar cube, crumbling it over his tea in a meager attempt to negate as much mess as the Britalian could. Was every "existing" world a Wonderland in its own respect? In another world where there was no magic, would this world be considered a Wonderland? And if this world had a Wonderland of its own, would the world that didn't have magic be considered a Wonderland, or was the Wonderland in Alice's mind really just an interpretation of this world for the entertainment of Muggles?

Ginny's statement of an Italian heritage caused Piérre to smile. Of course; that was why he had liked her name so much. Ginerva was indeed not only a French name, but also a name of Mediterranean nature. How in the world had he not seen that right away? Piérre supposed it was probably because he was so far away from Italy and it had been such a long time since he had been there.

"Woah! So, can you... like... can you speak Italian too?" The thought of having another native friend was just too much for the Britalian to imagine. "Are you Britalian too? I mean, British-Italian? I mean, I'm just here having moved from Italy, but I like the nickname too much to pass up."

Glancing about the room, Piérre noted how the room was filling up and he spotted those who were without a table standing about awkwardly. It would be rude of him to occupy a seat. Anyways, Piérre was sure that he had had enough tea for one day. It was time to get to know one another better... perhaps a change of scene was in order.

"Um, so, looks like there are lots of people around... You want to go somewhere a little less... busy?" Piérre downed the rest of his tea and then stood, bowing a little and offering a hand to Ginny. "M'lady?" The words were spoken with a traditional Italian chirrup, and Piérre was prepared to take the hand of Ginny.

Thread continued in 10/6