Out Of Range S.W.A.G Closed

@Alan Vanes | @River Dewlight | @Katrina Walker

Bridget was, by nature, a competitive person. In sports, Quidditch particularly, she did everything she could to come out on top and took losing as a big deal. S.W.A.G. was different--not quite so victory-oriented and more of a friendly way to practice spells. Still, she played to win. So when the third year she'd more-or-less formed a truce with earlier in the match targeted her, or rather the ball she was holding, she wasn't mad. He'd given her a heads-up in the form of an apology with it, so how could she be? The words gave her the time she needed to avoid the incoming spell, and she could respect such a strategy.

And then, just like that, the match was over. It took her a second to register that, yes, she'd just won. She'd just won! A grin took over her expression and she looked up to meet the eyes of the Gryffindor boy. She couldn't have let go of her victory that easily now, could she? The smile of elation morphed into more of a smirk when she spotted the bowl flapping through the air, the unintentional victim of his spell. "Nice flying bowl." He was lucky, really, that the game had ended. Otherwise Bridget would've made good on her deal to target him if he targeted her and flipendoed him across the circle. Noticing River, who despite her close proximity to her hadn't tried to take her down or seize the win for herself, Bridget gave the Ravenclaw a nod of appreciation.

The girl in possession of the other ball, the third year that had landed on her at the Masked Ball several months ago, had been able to dodge the more numerable and pernicious spells to fly at her. So there had been two winners this time. That was nice. With the added bonus of no attempted physical attacks, this might've been the best S.W.A.G. game yet.

"Thanks. It feels pretty good." Bridget responded to Katrina congratulations. "Oh, well, I guess I just got lucky. Only one to go for me was him," she gestured to the Gryffindor boy, "and we had a truce going for awhile." She looked at her friend more closely. Was Katrina okay? She looked pretty worn out and she was holding her arm weird. "You okay?"

Regardless of the answer, Bridget would wish Katrina a good evening, abandon the leather ball that had been her token of victory, and slip back to the castle, a bounce noticeable in her step from the lingering happiness of the win.

Thread left unless stopped. Good game everyone

@Alan Vanes, @Rafael D'Spacito, & @Aurelia Notrésvace
I know Auri isn't here, but I may as well leave a paper trail for her to follow when she gets back from hiatus!

Piérre had done it. He was still standing... he was a winner... if only because he had not been eliminated. Yes, he had not grabbed the rugby ball or the Quaffle in his wild dance of defense, but in his own mind, that was good enough to consider himself worthy of a platinum participation/fourth place award.

And just like that, the battle was over. Children were changing from Vietnam soldiers into allies and comrades once again, people were celebrating and congratulating others, and Piérre was slowly sinking to his knees with a sigh, watching as blurry humanoid figures began to run around the area. Why was he so lightheaded? He should be standing and celebrating with everyone else. He should be cheering with the victors and finding himself standing and consoling the losers, not falling onto his stomach and listening to his heartbeat echoing in his ears. His ribs and his lungs burned, his head throbbed... There wasn't much else for the kid to give. With a final cheer, for everyone who had participated... "Woohoo guys! Good going out there! You really showed everyon_"

Aa numb force locked up the Britalian's muscles and tongue, preventing him from speaking as his head fell limply to the green grass, softly breathing as the smallest trickle of red began to seep from the corner of his mouth. At long last, the anticipated clutches of unconsciousness had finally gained their rightful reward: one eccentric, young, over-enthused and overworked, Britalian by the name of Piérre Marchonné.

Piérre passes out from exhaustion...

Thread continued in Delirium

Anastasia's Flipendo was deadly. Thankfully, it would not hit Xailah, who was in possession of one of the balls. A lunge, and a quick somersault would save the slippery lion, causing the stray spell to instead hit a spectator. Eve...Evelynn? The tea girl. Poor thing. It would appear that she was a frequently unlucky character. The little ginger went flying, a few good feet away. There was no doubt that the impact with the ground, would be painful. Xailah shot upright, shaking off some stray sprigs of grass, that she had collected in her hair, during the controlled tumble. With a bewildered expression on her face, and a few remaining blades of dying grass, sprouting from her mane; she almost looked as if she had gone feral.

After that, the game was over. That was it. She had failed to deliver the ball to her eagle friend. But, she had succeeded in keeping the ball in her possession. She had secured her- their win. Pericles words from the beginning of the game still stuck. It wasn't the win she was expecting, or hoped for, but she wasn't going to complain. "We did it! We won!" The metamorph exclaimed, holding the ball triumphantly in the air. "You know, we don't make a bad team." Despite the two oddities being physically separated; they had somehow managed to find a way to work together, and win the game.

The Gryffindor allowed the odd, oblong ball to fall from her hands, before bringing two fingers to her mouth, to whistle for Schrödinger. The cat had been ordered to wait, and watch the game from the sidelines. He did so happily, mostly because there were snacks there. One of the spectators had lost their chicken wings, after a spell hit the bowl that held the little nuggets of meat. Once the saucy, winglets hit the grass, they were Schrödingers. "Schrödinger! Come here. The game is over." The gluttonous beast, peered up from his snack. What? He grabbed the remains of his wing, with his tiny mouth. He wasn't too sure why his human was calling him, while he was eating, but he figured that maybe she too was hungry. Schrödinger had no problem with sharing.

The grey blob waddled along; only stopping when he finally reached the spot where his human, and Bright-Haired Boy, stood. He could share his snack with Bright-Haired Boy too. Schrödinger liked Bright-Haired Boy, he gave the best belly rubs. Xailah stooped to pet her feline companion. "What a good boy." She would find that he was covered in something tacky. "...Ew. Why are you sssticky? Schrödinger, what did you do?!" Had she asked too much of him when she told him to sit and watch the game? Schrödinger looked up, his face covered in chicken wing sauce. What did he do? Roll in them? It was a likely possibility. The cat let the winglet, that he had been saving, for his mistress and her friend; roll out of his mouth, and onto the grass, in front of the two children. "Awe...Schrödinger, is this for me?" The lioness picked up the unrecognizable object, between her thumb and forefinger. Schrödinger gave her a lazy blink, of what seemed to be confirmation. "Well thank you."

Xailah would place the...thing, in the breast pocket of her jumpsuit- not because she was going to save it for later (because she wasn't), but because she loved Schrödinger. And she especially loved when he brought her things. Even if the majority of the objects he found were usually useless. "Well Pericles," She turned to the bird. "This is where I must leave you. I would have liked to ssstay longer and talk but, sssomeone-" A flicker of vibrant gold, shot towards the messy feline "Decided that they wanted to roll in something sssticky, and needs a-" She put her hands out, and pressed them against the sides of Schrödinger's head; covering his ears. "B-A-T-H. So unless you want to bathe him with me, this is goodbye." She released the cats round little head, before scooping his blubbery body into her dainty arms.

She would then start to make her way back to the castle, but stopped when she saw something move in the corner of her eye. Why was that- a flying bowl? Indeed. And it was an abomination. A wonderful abomination. The Gryffindor stood there, mouth slightly agape. The little harmless hiccups in transfiguration, never failed to amuse the child. "Aha! Pericles look! A flying bowl!" A childish smile began to crack across her porcelain skin. "Its hideous! I love it." The bowl that had sprouted wings was just so odd, and yet so...hypnotizing. "Make a wish Pericles, maybe its good luck." She advised. Xailah made a wish. She didn't know what for, all she knew is that she wished for something. Maybe she wished that Schrödinger wouldn't tear her to ribbons, when she gave him a bath.

Interacting with @Xailah Alptraum, @Piérre Marchonné, and anyone still around.

They had done it. Not only had Pericles managed a risky dance around the outermost range, but Xailah had obtained and kept the rugby ball, even succeeded in joining him. The boy beamed when they joined one another. He reached to pick an errant strand of grass from her hair, holding it aloft with an impish smirk, head giving a bob as he agreed "I think so, too." He was convinced he'd had far more fun teaming up with her than he would have had going it alone. A hand extended to take the ball, meaning to hand it back to Aurelia's house-elf. The literally saucy state of Schrödinger had him stifling a snicker, particularly when a half-chewed chicken wing was dropped between them. "What a true gentleman and provider," Pericles enthused, plucking from his pocket a plain black kerchief. An attempt was made to dab at Schrödinger's face, using slow sweeps- conscientious of the cat's dignity, which the cat totally had- to simulate petting rather than cleaning. A sage nod condoned the decision that a b-a-t-h was necessary. The way the word was spelled out, as if trying to be covert in the presence of a toddler, made those silvery eyes dance with amusement. "Ah... I'm afraid you'll have t'face this part of the night on your own, Xai," Peri admitted pityingly. As much as he enjoyed the witch's company, he couldn't bear sullying Schrödinger's opinion of him. "But I will see you soon. You did excellently tonight, really." She had pointed out the flying bowl- something just absurd enough to coax out a started laugh- and Pericles squinted its way. The vivid intensity with which he contemplated the thing implied he was taking his wish seriously.

When Xailah took her leave, he lingered a little longer, feeling it would be discourteous to simply up and go as soon as the game was called. Hearing Piérre, he called back "Well played!" only to witness the poor Gryffindor collapsing. Pericles glanced about uneasily, his knee-jerk desire being to drag Piérre to the hospital wing, though it seemed his fellow lions were quick to tend to their own. It was for the best that way- he trusted they could come up with an appropriate excuse for any injuries, such as a tumble down the dormitory stairs. The Ravenclaw supposed his own aches and pains were better off healed by time and patience. As much as he aspired to be an ideal prefect, he had thoroughly enjoyed the illegal dueling game, and he didn't want to arouse any suspicion which could lead to the end of S.W.A.G. When he awoke after all adrenaline had faded however, he would find he had developed a Flipendo-induced bruise. It would make for a sore morning. Stowing his wand and rubbing his shoulder, an energy of excitement still buzzing about him, Pericles began to drift between the remaining participants. The young wizard offered passing handshakes and repeated Well playeds, an expression of good sportsmanship and no hard feelings. He tried to ensure he reached those he'd swapped spells with in particular. Perhaps he was naive, perhaps some would believe themselves to be his rivals after rounds of trying to jinx one-another. Whatever the case, Pericles was pleased. He would sneak back into his dormitory with a simmering sense of satisfaction.

Shaking hands with anyone, then heading back to the dorm (leaving thread) unless stopped.

@Bridget Collins, @Piérre Marchonné & @Rafael D'Spacito

Alan cringed slightly when she heard the girl he had a truce with talk and sent an apologetic smile into her direction. "Y-Yeah, s-sorry about th-that!", he would let her know and lightly scratched his neck as his gaze was drawn to the flying bowl that had previously belonged to the kid named Jorah, if he remembered this correctly. He would cast the Untransfiguration spell on the winged bowl and watched as it would fall to the soft grass with a low thud.

His gaze would switch back to Rafael and he would have gone to him now that he actually could leave the barrier, if it has not been for catching sight of a collapsing kid. "Oh snap!", he exclaimed as he ran over to the unconscious kid that he actually had no idea about who it was. Luckily Alan had been able to sprint over and catch the kid before his head could hit the ground and possibly let him have even more damage than he would have. "What now, what now, what now..." Only these two words circled in his mind as he twisted and turned to look around before his gaze dropped to look at the passed out kid. "Hospital Wing!" But the unfamiliar kid was not the only person he had to deal with at the moment since D'Spacito seemed also pretty beaten up and most likely had some bruised rips by the way the knockback jinxed had hit him and the third year was a bit swamped with all the responsibility on his own and it made him a little but hectic, if not panicky.

He would force himself to take a deep breath. He would have to be the one to get this kid into the hospital wing himself as it was impossible for Rafael to do so at the moment, since he had his own injuries to worry about. Perhaps it was for the best if Rafael would only have to support his own weight on their way, but Alan could also impossibly lift this kid on his own so he would have to think about his next step. He would run his mind through his possibilities and came to the conclusion of having to cast a spell that could possibly carry the unconscious kid but the only one that came to his mind once again was the levitation charm and the history of it that gave him the idea of a tactic he needed.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he would cast the needed spell and watch as it took effect by raising the kid for about one meter off the ground. Keeping a hold of the wand and keeping up the spell he would call out for Rafael and ask him if he would require any help or if he could walk on his own. He truly hoped that the latter was the cause because he was not sure if he was able to keep the spell up while also having to support the taller boys weight as they would make their way over to the hospital wing.